


Gringo

by morphinetune



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Babies, Blood, Cuddling, Explicit Language, F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, OC babies - Freeform, Romance, Sadness, Sex, Sexual Content, Violence, Walkers (Walking Dead), but there's cute stuff too, like the kind that makes you hide your face and contemplate why you're reading this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 96,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphinetune/pseuds/morphinetune
Summary: "Say that again." he said, and he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "I love you." "Again." "I love you." Rosie stormed into his life like a wild-fire; splitting open his shell and leaving him yearning to feel more of her heat. He'd follow her anywhere, even when there was no path left to follow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wish i would've been creative enough to create TWD, but ha, i'm not, so:   
> Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership to any of the characters from TWD, and do not write for financial gain. Additionally- "Rosie" is mine, i created her.
> 
> Additionally-additionally, this is a very altered timeline that's based on the show, not the comic; I wrote this at the beginning of season 6 and now season 7b is airing weekly and I realize that it is COMPLETELY different from that’s taking place… but it’s just for fun. So very alternate timeline. 
> 
> Additionally x3: I have also posted this work on FFnet under the same username, so before anyone tries to claim plagiarism, i'm the same person. hope you enjoy the read!

Her name was Rosie, and she had come flying out of nowhere when Daryl found himself unexpectedly cornered by four walkers. He hadn't been able to draw his gun up fast enough or pull his knife from his hip, so when the swinging hatchet came slicing into the skull of the walking dead before him, he was a bit stunned it hadn't cleaved into him. Once the one pinning him was eliminated, taking down the others was easy. But then Daryl and the girl with curly dark hair and fiery eyes were at a draw; his M-16 aimed at her, her sawed-off shotgun pointed between his eyes. However, it only took a few moments before she lowered her gun, revealing the rest of her dirty face. Daryl didn't move, didn't lower his weapon. But she put hers to her side, and raised an eyebrow at him. She lifted her muddy hands a moment, making him grip the gun tighter. 

She huffed. "I mean I did just save your ass." She snapped. That voice! So scratchy, but so velvety. He enjoyed the sound of it.

Hesitantly, he lowered the gun. She even leaned some ways down to catch a peek of his face before he stood straight- and she grinned... how long had it been since Daryl had come along a stranger that grinned? Like they were just passing on the street while walking? Maybe she was insane. 

"I'm Rosie." She said, extending a hand out to him. This was weird. He wondered if she was going to grab his hand and stab him, or shoot him, or- but besides all those thoughts, something compelled him to grab her hand and shake. It was firm and confident, much like the way she kept looking at him. "Daryl." He said softly; there didn't seem to be any unease in the way she stood or spoke compared to his cautious demeanor. 

"You alone?" He asked, taking note of the backpack she carried as he scanned the surroundings behind her. 

"Unfortunately." She said, shifting a bit. So she caught that, huh? "Do you have water?" She asked then, her brows furrowing a bit. Daryl looked her once over again; he just couldn't get a clear read of this girl. She was threatening in the strangest of ways, but he couldn't sense any dishonesty in her, or malevolence for that matter. He unhooked his water bottle from his hip and held it in his hand. "Trade for your pack." He said, and she cocked her head a bit, but nevertheless slipped it off her shoulders. The mostly filled bottle was too enticing to pass up. 

"You're not gonna find anything spectacular." She mentioned before smoothly exchanging with him. As she tilted the bottle over her mouth and savored the refreshing liquid, he quickly sifted through her bag. 

Books, socks, bullets, a can opener, matches and an empty water bottle. Nothing spectacular, but equally peculiar. Who carries books nowadays? 

"Thank you." She said softly, returning the still mostly filled water bottle to him. Daryl returned her bag, his hand brushing hers as he did.

Their eyes met- there's a moment you always remember when you first meet someone. It should've been her running and slamming an axe into a walkers head, but instead it was her wild eyes and hand brushing against his that was to be permanently burned into his memory, and the inability to pull away from her gaze for a bit. 

But in the end he was the one to look away first. There was a drawn silence between them; Rosie was almost ready to say her goodbyes and walk away, despite not wanting to leave the only person she'd seen in weeks. 

"We have a town- a settlement. There's more people and walls to keep walkers 'n enemies out." He explained, and her face conveyed hope. She had come along other groups, but they were hostile even from a distance so she'd avoided them, or they looked broken-down- ready to crumble. Daryl didn't exactly look to be the most inviting and trusting person you'd hope to come along, but the fact he hadn't actually tried to kill or capture her said a lot. And even though his eyes were feral and his voice rough, she felt compelled to follow him. "You don't 'ave to come, but the offers there." Daryl added, pulling the gun strap over his shoulder. 

"I'd like to go." Rosie said, nodding. 

It was strange how close she'd actually been wandering near Alexandria, and how she went undetected by lookouts when she noted that she'd crossed the street in front of the compound, completely oblivious it was at her side. And Daryl didn't feel the need to point his weapon at her back as they walked together, and didn't feel it necessary to take her weapons when the heavy doors slid open to reveal the homes and community inside. This girl had a strange energy she emitted- something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

But Sasha had called alert to Rick when she spotted the newcomer tagging beside Daryl. 

Rosie side stepped a bit when Rick sped walked to them, her hand grabbing the hilt of her hatchet. Without knowing Rick and his kindness, his cold eyes and strong stance could easily startle someone. "It's okay." Daryl reassured her as Rick approached them. "This is Rosie- found her wandering around." He added, and she scoffed. "Those details are a bit foggy." She mumbled. Did she really just say that? 

She stiffened as he spun her around to pat her down, but she didn't object. She knew she'd be outnumbered if she tried to make a move. But her eyes scanned around, bouncing from face to face of every distant person that stopped to observe the stranger. Rick pulled her backpack off and the gun from her hand, handing them to Daryl. Still, she didn't object. At least he kept her with her hatchet. 

Daryl watched as Rosie stood straight when Rick looked down at her. Clearly she wasn't letting him have too much of an upper hand; they both just stared. Rosie wasn't very tall, but she was still a bit intimidating. "You ask her the questions?" Rick asked; Daryl shook his head. 

"She's alone, don't 'ave much on her." He explained, gesturing to the weapon at her hip. 

"How many walkers have you killed?" The first question. 

"Seventy-two." Without skipping a beat she answered. Daryl listened intently to the next two questions, as well as Sasha who leaned a bit over the railing. 

"How many people have you killed?" There was the second. There was a pause this time, and Rosie's confidence dulled a bit. 

"Three." She answered, her voice softer. 

"Why?" Rick finished with the last one, his eyes boring holes into her. Rosie sighed. "Because it was too late to save them." Her scratchy voice was even, steady. Rosie rocked onto one leg, her body relaxing a little. Rick was having trouble getting a read on her as well; when he starred people down, his years of experience being a sheriff told him that this was when people's confidence would falter and their true colors would show through. But she just stared back, waiting patiently. 

"What profession were you in before?" Rick asked. 

"First responder for six years." She answered, showing the paramedic emblem on the shoulder of the worn and tattered shirt she wore over her tang-top. The men exchanged glances; it was lucky having Denise, but to have a seasoned medical professional would be a blessing. "From round here?" Daryl asked, and when she looked at him to speak, the temper of her eyes calmed, the language of her body also doing so. 

"Originally from New York, but made my way down to Florida then came back up. It's been safest here- the cities anywhere are packed with lurkers and there's gangs everywhere." She explained. They were both taken aback by the distance she'd covered. But Rick was still hesitant; what with recent events, inviting someone in could be a mistake. He turned to speak to Daryl, trying to keep his voice low. Rosie acted as if she were interested in her surroundings, but kept an open ear. 

"I trust enough in your judgement that you didn't bring her in without thinking she'd be of some use. Seems kinda... unusual." He whispered. 

"I didn't know she was a paramedic- she don't have anything useful in her bag. Think if we 'ave her on our side, she's harmless, but useful. She's got a strong arm with that axe. We'll figure out more as we go." He replied, looking to her. Rosie felt his gaze and looked. The heat of her eyes made him feel warm, secure almost. "You gonna keep an eye on her?" Rick asked, and Daryl paused before nodding. He wasn't fond of babysitting, but he brought her in- his responsibility, now. 

He felt like Rick was leaning more towards asking her to leave, but something deep in his gut didn't want her to. "Law of averages." Daryl added, and Rick sighed, reluctantly nodding his head. 

Rick walked back to her and followed her line of sight- she was looking at Judith who was toddling along the street with her hands in Carl's. Her heart swelled; it’d been so long since she'd seen a child. 

"My names' Rick, and this is our home. We have plenty of people here to keep this place guarded and safe and Daryl here with a couple others continually bring people in to help this place flourish. You're welcome to stay, and you'll get a home after a few days watch. But to stay here, you have to prove your worth and work. If you disagree with that, you can walk right out those doors." Rick explained, no room for negotiation. Rosie nodded. 

"Understood." She said. "Mind if I keep this with me?" She asked, tapping her axe at her side. Rick nodded. "Daryl'll be keeping an eye on you for a while." He finished. "Let’s go, I'll show you around." Daryl spoke then, and she said, "Thank you, Rick." The two walked down the road leading away from the front gate, and Rosie wasn't oblivious to the inhabitants from all around taking turns looking her over. But if anyone passed them, she offered a grin and a nod. Daryl even took it upon himself to tell her the names of people, and where select few facilities were inside the walls, but not too much at the time. Michonne literally stopped in her tracks as she walked to Rick, a bit astonished at the new girls gestures. 

Her lover met her halfway as she turned to look at the curly haired girl stroll down the street with Daryl, occasionally waving to someone who kept their eyes lingering too long for her liking. 

"Who's Daryl's new rescue?" Michonne asked. Rick rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, but he couldn't help but smirk. "Rosie, our town's newest paramedic." He explained, and she nodded in approval. "If I didn't know any better I'd say she's lost her mind smiling at someone like that nowadays." She whispered, and Rick chuckled. He had a feeling a great majority of them would all have the same thought process about her. 

\----

If it hadn't been from the previous generosity of some of the original inhabitants of Alexandria, Rosie's kindness and willing to make new friends would have been alarming. She'd walk right up to someone and introduce herself, and with ease she could keep a conversation rolling. And there was almost always a smile on her face as she greeted someone, not to mention sweet words when she'd dote over Judith when Rick finally found it fit to introduce them. The way she could get that little girl smiling and laughing only pointed to the possibility that she had once had children of her own, but that wasn't something Daryl was going to ask her outright. But he still wondered as he lingered near her- how was she always so chipper? Or maybe he'd just been in the company of too many unfortunate happenings that it'd left him and everyone else with a sour taste in their mouths. Either way, she was a light that refused to be put out. 

And everyday that she made a new friend, she gained the trust of another person. It was hard not to; she kept her word and proved her worth when it came to work and chores and rounds. She had a strong work ethic, and even took to taking it upon herself to clean the streets sometimes. And at night, her sharp eye kept them safe when larger than normal groups of Walkers wandered by. Even the occasional wildlife that poked curiously at the walls. 

Her extensive knowledge of the medical field proved itself when she was easily able to fill in the gaps of Denise's studies or opinions. But not only did she offer her opinions, she taught Denise whatever she could with what limited resources they had. To anyone, really, that would take the time to hear her out. 

After easily striking up conversations with others, Daryl started to notice she'd try with him, the quietest of the lot, despite being the first one she stumbled upon those couple of weeks ago. It started small, just little comments or asking for his opinion on a matter seeing as he was still "keeping an eye on her" and followed at a distance. Even though he'd rarely answer, she was persistent. Rosie would even go out of her way to walk in an opposite direction down the street to ask how he was doing, or if he needed any help. Despite actually liking her company, he'd always send her off. But then there were nights they'd both have wall guard, and she'd keep pace with him, trying her utmost to get more than two syllables out of him at a time. 

Those nights, she'd say something he normally didn't feel the need to comment on with others besides Carol, but was always compelled to do so with her. Carol herself even teased him about this; on one occasion she'd held back laughs as he stuttered while speaking to Rosie, and with an elbow to his ribs in a playful manner, he was glaring at Carol as she laughed. "Stop." He grumbled, walking from the short haired woman who went about grabbing cans from the pantry and chuckling to herself. 

"It's nice being somewhere where it actually gets cool at night during summer." She had said as she stood by him, a loaned and silenced rifle in her hands. He eyed her from behind his shaggy bangs for a moment as she looked into the dense woods. 

"Compared to what?" He asked, his voice gruff. 

"Home, Maryland, Florida. They were the worst, but I guess the tan was worth it." She said, shooting him a small smile and eyeing her tan arms. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to get nervous when he didn't return the smile. She truly had a contagious smile; still couldn't crack him, though. Yet, she reassured herself. 

"How'd you get that far?" His question was cautious, but purely curious. "I mostly walked, then other times I found a car. After Florida, though, I wanted to come back. Figured if I could barely make it that far there was no getting to California." The tone she spoke in was carefree, like she was catching up with an old friend rather than an acquaintance. But he didn't realize that after being alone for so long, something she craved the most was just talking to another human. Loneliness brought out the unexpected. 

"Are you from here?" She asked, wandering a bit away but still staying within talking distance. He took a few steps after her, but still didn't answer, keeping his eyes on the world around them. He didn't know if revealing information to her would backfire, even if it was little details. 

"Your accent is barely there but I'd say Georgia." She said, turning to catch his widened eyes. She giggled. "Am I right?" She asked, and he nodded, hiding his grin. Another short stretch of silence as he watched her stroll along the wall, staring down at the Walkers. The few that were there groaned quietly, unable to pinpoint where their voices were coming from. "You don'ave much of an accent being from Manhattan." He finally said, walking past her as she stopped to look down. "Lived there, wasn't born there." She simply stated, scanning the trees. 

"When I was still in California- speaking Spanish with family and friends kind of gave me one, but it left when I left." She stated. He listened even after she finished. "Why would you leave California?" He questioned, realizing that again she was bringing him from his usual quiet shell. But now he wanted to know more; he'd only ever heard of paradise from that state. She shrugged, looking at him. "Thought I'd give somewhere else a chance." She stated, gently brushing her shoulder with his as she walked by him. They were continually going ahead of one another and then waiting, and he didn't even know when it had started. It was like this, though. Quiet talks and smiles, sometimes the brush of an arm or shoulder.

"How's that workin' out for ya?" He joked, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Clearly the best decision I've ever made." She laughed. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic. Everything she said sounded sincere. "This sucks," she paused to point at the Walkers. "But that's beautiful." She finished, pointing to the trees and night sky. Darly had spent so much time alone in the woods that he'd grown numb to the shelter and beauty those trees actually provided, but watching someone else adore his once home during his childhood, he couldn't help but again notice them. "How long were you out there?" He asked carefully, standing beside her.

"A few days after I was cleared from the quarantine zone- after they'd thought it was contained, I left. I made it to Michigan when the world was handed over to the dead, and I've been wandering since." Rosie spoke quietly, and for the first time since she'd arrived, he could hear sadness in her voice. "Two years. I was out there for two years." She added, and he looked away. "And some change." He said, and she released a breath. 

"And some change." She repeated, and then a light silence fell over them. No tension, nothing uncomfortable, just silence and the moans of the walking dead. 

"I really owe you for bringing me here." Her voice broke the silence, and he watched as she swung the rifle to set against the back of her neck. "I'd encountered a lot of horrible people, and I thought I was going to have to become one if it meant not being alone anymore." She turned so she was facing him, and he turned his head farther to look at her. "Thank you- so much, Daryl. You- everyone; you gave me life again." She smiled at him, and he nodded, not knowing how to handle such gratitude. Any at the prison previously just made him uncomfortable, but one on one like this was even worse. But when she walked away and let her hand slide along his shoulder blades, he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. How long had it been since he'd had any contact like that, or a light hearted conversation like this? "You're a good friend." She called back, her hands hanging around the gun. 

Proposing friendship so easily- that shook him a bit. That was new, but he couldn't deny liking it. He watched her stroll away, like she hadn't a care in the world. 

Continually she made good impressions on people, and her calm demeanor and steady hands brought into account that maybe she'd be good on runs after a few weeks time. But it was still being tossed around; they didn't know how she handled conflict on the outside. However Daryl still stayed near after it had been deemed that she wasn't a threat. He liked to listen to her talk, and began to crawl out of his shell to talk to her. Now he was the one going out of his way to start conversations, even if they were small and about work around Alexandria. But she always greeted him with a smile. When they didn't have chores together, he'd still watch her. 

When she sat on the steps of Rick’s porch to chat with Carl about comics, or braid tight knots into her hair along her scalp and then sometimes Judith's. He preferred her hair down and around her pretty face-

Daryl blinked a few times. What the hell was that shit? 

Quickly his feet carried him to the opposite end of Alexandria; he couldn't be having thoughts about anyone like that again. Not after Beth. He couldn't take that loss again if something happened to Rosie in the midst of developing emotions. 

But still... He found himself looking at her, captivated. 

Like when she'd read in the grass or on someone's porch. Always the same of three books, but enough to keep her mind moving, she'd say. A still brain is one not much farther from death, she said once before returning to her book; Daryl couldn't disagree. Rosie offered so many new aspects and topics that he realized his mind hadn't actually worked this efficiently in quite some time. Nor had it been distracted enough to shift into this more peaceful mindset; it was a small weight off his shoulders. And if he got to listen to her voice and spend some extra time with her, then what was the harm? He'd give himself that much, even if he was denying the ever growing feelings for her. 

\---

It hadn't necessarily been okay-ed, but no one had frankly argued it, either. Somehow, maybe over the nights they had rounds together or just the conversations they'd exchanged while roaming around Alexandria, Michonne had taken a liking to Rosie and without delay asked her on a run with her. Rick wasn't too fond of sending his lover off with somewhat of a stranger (even if the group trusted her), but Michonne was adamant, saying she felt she could rely on this woman. Rosie had covered more ground than any of them, both in and over state lines. She'd mentioned a small pharmacy not too far away, and the infirmary was running low. Who better to take than a paramedic? 

And boy, did she prove her worth. 

There was far more dark and rotted blood covering Rosie then there was Michonne, but the smiles they shared were sure to hold an interesting story. And although it literally looked like she had dumped her head in a bucket of innards, and riffled in someone's spare parts, she still stood beside Michonne, hands on her hips. 

"If there was ever anyone you wanted to have with you on a run-," she paused to pat Rosie's shoulder. "This is your girl, Daryl." Michonne finished, and Rosie smiled, picking some rotted skin that was stuck in the ends of her curls. Daryl looked at Rosie; what the hell happened? But his thoughts were interrupted from a backpack full of medicine and supplies being placed in his hands. "Everything on the list plus more." Rosie said in a content sigh, walking past him towards Rick. 

Rick stood a bit shocked after greeting Michonne, inwardly relieved she had made it back in one piece. "Busy day?" He asked, and Rosie shrugged with a grin. 

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She replied, rotating her axe in her hand. Rick could only shake his head, and then send her off to get clean. But Daryl watched as she strolled way, acting as if she had just returned from the grocery store instead of a dangerous run. 

He figured it out. She had a spark of insanity; that's why she was always smiling. No one in their right mind would act like that if-

"I don't know what to make of that girl." Rick mumbled as Daryl walked to him, showing him the packed backpack. Anything from band aids to surgical glue and hemostats was in there, and odd medications he didn't even know how to pronounce. "She knows what she's doin', though." Daryl said, shooting him a glance. 

"Been thinkin' of taking her on runs. Thought about it a little before, but now- seems fit." Daryl clarified, and Rick nodded. 

"You comfortable taking her?" Rick asked.  
"Comfortable enough. Still got some warmin' up to do... bit of a chatter box." He replied; he was lying. He was plenty comfortable around her. 

"Alright then. Talk to Aaron." Rick stated, walking from his friend to deliver the backpack to Denise. 

\---

Aaron had agreed quickly. Just like everyone else, he'd accepted that girl when he noted her sunny disposition and hard-working attitude. And seeing as Eric was up and on his feet again, they'd both have a partner now. Double the protection, and double the eyes. But Daryl found himself nervous as he approached Rosie, who was pulling her dried clothes from the line between a neighbor's house. Even then, she still hadn't found a permanent home to sleep in. And even then, Daryl's nerves unsettled when he talked to her. He grumbled to himself before coming up around her. 

Always a smile to greet him. "Hey, Angel Wings." She played, folding a shirt in her hands. Just like that, the apprehension was gone and his body felt warm. Rosie had that calming sense about her; he was sure she could calm a rampaging bull, given the chance. Such a contradicting thing to think seeing as she looked to be ready to throw herself into a fight at any given moment.

"Hush." He mumbled, but she just chuckled. 

"A little bird told me you're going on a run tomorrow." Rosie said, briefly looking from the corner of her eye as she tossed a shirt down into the basket beside her. Daryl watched her hands- so meticulous in the way she pulled off pins and folded the fabrics. 

"Gonna just be scouting out 'round us." He explained, pushing her basket with his feet every time she stepped sideways to a new piece of clothing. 

"Need some help?" She asked effortlessly, looking at him with warm eyes. He could've stayed in that spot forever. He wanted to soak in those fiery eyes, but he blinked, breaking his own trance. "Actually-," he unconsciously reached down to grab her basket, following after her where she moved to the next row. She thanked him softly. 

"Been talking to Rick and Aaron 'n Eric, and we figured we could use another person to help recruit on runs. Interested?" He asked, and she paused mid-fold of a shirt. "Seriously?" She asked, turning to face him. He nodded. 

"Do you even have to ask?" She asked, and Daryl smirked, still following her with the basket. 

"Sure ya up to wanderin' around again out there?" He asked, almost expecting an answer he didn't want to hear. 

"To be honest- and don't get me wrong, because I absolutely love showers and air conditioning- but I miss being out there, sometimes." Rosie refolded the clothing in her hands as she fumbled. "Or at least just being on the move. Is that awful?" She asked softer. 

"Nah, I felt the same way when we first got here." His words were reassuring, and it made him feel lighter when she grinned at him. Rosie nodded and grabbed another shirt. "Good to know." She confessed softly, tugging on the basket a bit for him to follow.

They idly chatted; Daryl carried the basket for her to the steps of the neighbor's home she was staying in for a few nights. Rosie sent him off with a pat on his arm, and a smile that warmed his heart, promising she'd see him bright and early the next morning. Daryl readjusted his gun over his shoulder and kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he wasn't paying much attention. He couldn't help that his thoughts were wandering around her, and that the- 

"Now I'm going to ask you something and I expect a certain answer, so even if you don't want to answer it truthfully just know that I know something." Carol said, coming up beside him and startling him a bit. He didn't even realize she'd walked straight up to him, or that she had followed him a few feet. "What's that?" He asked cautiously. "Do you have a crush on Rosie?" She asked outright. He almost tripped over his own foot. 

"Crush? Like kids get?" He snapped, and she side glanced at him. 

"Excuse me- do you have significant feelings for a particular woman who could quite possibly be insane but is also one of the nicest people I've ever met?" Carol asked again, smiling at him when he didn't answer this time. 

"Like I said, you can lie but I know the truth." She added, elbowing him gently. "Stop it." He mumbled, his eyes jumping to make sure no one had heard her. "Daryl-," she stopped, grabbing his arm. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Carol told him, squeezing his arm a little. He just looked at her with eyes that were narrower than usual. How was he supposed to talk about the spot in his heart that Rosie had began occupying? That same spot that had started to rip into his heart when Beth was killed? It was still something he was coming to terms with- was it that obvious to everyone else if Carol could see it? "Just- don't be so loud." He mumbled, looking at his feet and then back towards where Rosie was. She was already sitting on the porch, reading her tattered book. 

"Don't be afraid to love again." Carol said softer, and he sighed. In a world like theirs, loving was dangerous. 

"She's good for you. Haven't ever heard you talk this much." Daryl shook his head and continued back along the road. "You both are kind of feral, too." She added in a whisper, and he shoved her playfully as she laughed. 

\---

Just as she had promised, Rosie was up just as the sun was peaking over the trees, and swinging on the porch swing with her face buried in an old book that was missing it's cover, waiting patiently for him. Her backpack with all the essentials was next to her, her hand over it like it was a toddler that needed to be held so it didn't fall, but he didn't see a gun with her. Before he made it to the steps she had spotted him, nodding in his direction before she stuffed her book away and basically skipped to him. 

"Y'always happy this early?" He asked, still a bit groggy. He'd had a restless night; he never told anyone, but going on runs made him edgy.

"If it bothers you I can be sickeningly happy. Like singing and summoning birds and wildlife to follow me." She said, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm serious- just say the word and we can have birds braiding our hair." She added, smiling at him.

\---

Daryl liked that she could keep up over rough terrain. It made sense now why she brought little to nothing with- it kept her light on her feet. She still was a bit chatty which he worried would give their location away if anyone or thing was around them, but her eyes stayed wide and alert, and she would respond to the smallest noises just as he did. But then she fell silent. "Do you see something I don't?" She asked, looking where he did, then back before herself. He had spotted some tracks earlier, but had given them up. They were nothing more than a walker, most likely. 

"Trackin', thought I saw somethin'." He mumbled, and she walked closer to him. "How do you see anything with all the foliage?" She asked, intent on seeing what he did. 

He stuttered a bit- the last person he'd taught was Beth. 

"I's'too dry now, but you can see it in mud or wet grass best, or the way twigs are broken. Sometimes in the way stuff is kicked up." He went on explaining, and she listened with rapt attention, even opting to touch the ground where he left his own impressions from his boots. Just another piece of knowledge she could put under her belt. Rosie asked many questions and even trailed behind him a bit to observe the way boots made prints, and he showed her how walking backwards could still give away someone's direction all by the kickoff of dirt at the toe. She picked up flattened leaves, and showed him that she was already picking up on it.

He’d unexpectedly enjoyed teaching and showing her so much that before he knew it, they were upon the small pharmacy herself and Michonne had gone to, and upon learning, the same one she’d visited a few times beforehand. They kneeled behind the shrubbery and trees, counting the number of walkers wandering in front. Rosie sighed. "We left it empty here last time." She said, biting the inside of her cheek. There was still walkers piled around in the street. 

"They move 'round in waves. Either way we gotta get in." He replied, formulating a plan on how to distract them. Shooting would make too much noise, use too much ammo, and there were too many to fight. Rosie sighed, her eyes bouncing around.

"Oh lucky day!" She exclaimed silently, grabbing an empty can by her feet. His brows furrowed- was she a hoarder, too? But then she started sifting through the grass at her feet, picking up small stones. "Excuse me I need this." She said quickly, snapping off a piece of the wire around the pant leg of his ankle. "What the-," he snapped, a bit irritated. "Just watch!" She snapped back, silently placing the stones in the can and tying down the open lid. "Ready to run?" She asked, a devious smile on her face. Before he could respond, she had stood and chucked the rattling can across the road from the pharmacy. It landed with a loud clatter and even rolled and bounced a few times, effectively drawing the attention of the walkers within the vicinity.

"Let’s go!" She hissed, tugging on his arm as they ran along the tree line and behind the distracted walkers. Quietly, and carefully, he pried open the heavy door that was chained from the inside, allowing her to crawl in. She tapped the door when it was clear, holding it for Daryl until he was safely inside. 

She sighed happily, her eyes looking over the mostly ransacked business. "Piece a cake." She said, patting his shoulder and walking to an isle. Daryl watched her as she picked up an old basket and plucked various items from the shelves. "Done that before?" He whispered. "Yeah, I got stuck in a mob of those things once and those empty cans I had leftover saved my life." She explained, grabbing a spool of twine and tossing it to him. "Paid you back." She giggled. 

"Guess ya learn a few things being 'lone a while." He mentioned, tossing the twine into her basket. 

"Oh definitely. Same go for your tracking?" She asked, comparing two medicines. "Mostly." He mumbled, not wanting to reveal that tracking was a part of his morbid childhood. 

"It's really interesting, actually. How you can find clues in the ground like that." She said, rattling a bottle before plopping it in her basket. "Comes with time. This though- I don't get it." He said, reading the long name of a medication. "I could study a book 'bout it and prolly not remember all these names." He mumbled; Rosie tittered. 

"I have a trick- you can identify a lot of generic medicines by the prefix of suffix of the names," she started, grabbing it from his hand. "Like this one- anything with 'dazole' of 'sulfa' on it is an antibacterial- always useful." She explained, pointing to a few other bottles. Daryl grabbed another, and examined it. "What about sil-de-nafil citrate?" He took his time sounding out the word, but he wasn't prepared for Rosie to snort, covering her mouth. 

"T-that's for erectile dysfunctions." She said through held back laughter, and Daryl placed the bottle back and walked to the next isle. That was embarrassing. 

Rosie continued to chuckle to herself as she moved along; there wasn't much food left in the small building, and if there was, most of it was expired and filling the air with an old, mildewy smell which didn’t interact well with the thick layer of dust their shoes were kicking up. The two moved silently about the store, following lists and grabbing anything else small they could use. And they both occasionally would peak at one another, also scanning over the building and front doors. Always on the lookout for the threats of the world. Eventually they converged into one path towards the back of the store where a few match boxes had spilled open and some cans of food were dented and hidden amongst the rubble. Rosie sat cross legged, collecting small items and reading the expiration dates of them. Daryl approached her, opting to kneel beside her. 

"Find anything good?" She asked, carefully picking up matches and putting them aside in piles. 

He opened his bag to reveal water purification tablets. "Those would've come in handy like two weeks ago- how did I not see those?" She asked, her brows arching down. 

"There's a walker up behind the counter; found 'em in his pocket. Had a damn handful of toothpicks in his eye." He explained, and Rosie grinned at him. He sat down then. 

"You did that?" He asked, and she shrugged. "He surprised me, it's what I had in my hand." She said, opening a plastic bag to collect the matches. "Whatever works for you, girl." He said, helping organize the matches. A rare silence passed that Rosie wasn't talking-

"So I was thinking..." Never mind. 

"Seeing as we're both going to be going on runs together, and we're bound to run into trouble- I'll teach you basic medical procedures and more if you want, if you teach me how to track in case we get separated." She proposed, zipping her backpack and looking at him. He weighed it back and forth; she had a good point, but she'd have to learn to stay quiet if she was going to track someone. He supposed that'd come with the lessons, though. 

"A'right then." He agreed, and she smiled, standing and pulling her hair into a bun. "Ready to go then, gringo?" She asked, extending a hand to him. A new name she’d become fond of calling him. But when she stepped back to hoist him up, her back hit a shelf and with an almost deafening clatter. A section of glass swab jars came crashing down and filling the quiet of the pharmacy. Both of them froze, Rosie's eyes wide and her mouth wording, 'I'm so sorry'. It was no surprise when walkers started to beat and groan against the front doors, testing the chain that held them together. "Fuck!" She hissed, walking to the doors and peeking out when ever there was a chance. "There's not all too much," she said, stabbing her knife between the doors and into a skull when given the chance. 

"Let 'em in and take 'em one at a time?" He asked, and she sighed. "Only solution." She replied, and Daryl went to work at unlocking the doors. Thankfully the chains were only tangled, so it was only a mere minute before he looked back at her, and after pulling her hatchet from her hip and twirling it expertly once, she nodded. 

Even though Daryl had jumped back to let the doors swing open, the walkers in front who had had their eyes on him all swarmed towards him, alerting Rosie.

She whistled loudly, grabbing the attention of a greater majority. And after that, it was swift strikes and slices into skulls, occasionally having to push back some that were freshly turned and had some speed still. Daryl's attention often drifted to Rosie; watching her was nothing short of captivating. He didn't know if she had had some previous training, or what kind of training it'd even be to have this kind of fluidity of movements and overall calm demeanor, but she executed her movements in a meticulous manner, like how her hands moved. And throughout it all, she never lost footing of confidence as she went about her end of the task. The spark of insanity he'd noted a while back showed clear in her eyes, but now it didn't concern him. To deal with matters of this kind, you had to have thick skin and a numbness to handle it all. She proved singlehandedly that they were not the walking dead.

And they were done; there had been more than expected, and there was still some wandering along the street that would surely see them soon. Rosie leaned against her knees for a little, blood coating her arms. 

"Y'alright?" He asked, walking over to her and wiping his knife on his pant leg. 

"I'm out of shape." She said breathlessly, standing straight and looking behind him. "Ready to bounce?" She asked, and he followed as they left. Something about her 'getting-down-to-business' attitude intrigued him, made him a little proud even. 

\---

Rosie had snatched the car keys right out of his hands when they finally made it back to the car. It had taken longer getting back; she took him up on his side of the deal along the way back. There had been a few detours as he wandered in a strange design to see if she could track him, but she needed more experience. Even though she'd successfully tracked a walker wandering nearby, she'd gone the complete opposite direction that he'd lead her away from. There was always more time, though. But by the time they'd made it back to their car, the sun was setting. Hard to believe that the whole day passing felt so brief. 

The air was slowly getting cooler everyday, and it rushed in through the passenger window as he lit a cigarette. Her attention had been on some stray roads they were zooming by, but the comforting smell of cigarette smoke immediately brought her back. 

"Sharing is caring." She said, holding a hand out to him. Daryl chuckled; her small comments got to him. 

And he learned as she leaned over with both hands covering the lighter that she was unusually good at knee-steering, even when she had leaned back into her seat. She took a long drag, pulling it deep into her lungs and blowing it out her nostrils. 

"Been a while?" He asked, flicking the embers off of his own.

"I quit before all this happened and I wasn't lucky enough to find a pack or even a few. No point in quitting now." She said, finally placing her wrist atop the steering wheel and sucking in another drag. 

"Why'd you quit?" He asked, but she paused as she blew it out. Rosie shrugged. "Long story." 

He left it at that. Judging by the way she didn't willingly carry on the topic like anything else was enough to tell him that it was touchy. But easily she shifted into a different conversation, not letting any silence drift between them. Daryl no longer found it unsettling or hard to speak to her, and even threw in a few jokes that he found her laughing loudly from. A pleasant sound, he found. 

\---

Something clicked in his mind. Like the volume turning up the TV so you could better hear the conversation happening; he could finally sort through the muddle in his head that had been pulling him back and forth for weeks. He finally accepted he had more than a crush on Rosie, and that he wanted to almost always be around her. 

He'd undoubtedly become comfortable around his friends and the ones he considered family, but none as fast as he did with her. He looked forward to bumping into her if they didn't have rounds together, and was always sure to be a listening ear to her as she was to him when he was having an off day. It had been a long while since emotions such as these had better occupied his heart, and sometimes he questioned his better judgement to be falling for someone again after Beth. But even if life was as it was before the apocalypse, there'd still be a present danger of something terrible happening, right? 

"Think of it as you personally taking it upon yourself to make sure nothing happens to her- Rosie watch!" Carol said cheerfully. Daryl had finally turned to talking to her about his dilemma, but his dear friend had continued to reassure him that he wasn't making a mistake in reopening his heart to someone. She recalled his hurt and loneliness forming over him like a shell, keeping him suspended in a state of despair. Slowly and surely he'd started to crawl back out of that shell, but Rosie was the one to break him out of it; to make him smile and laugh like she'd never seen before. 

But even if Daryl did start to regress, and he again became who he was when they first met, Rosie wouldn't allow it. 

Just as Daryl's heart swelled with affection, Rosie was undeniably falling for the feral man who's rough voice gave her goosebumps. From the very beginning she'd had a liking to his gruff attitude and loyal tendencies. He had a calming way about him, but in an instant could be protective and the fighter she'd come to enjoy spending time with. But Rosie worried for him; she'd catch him sitting or standing away from everyone, his eyes lost in thought. But his body language said everything in those brief moments. 

\---

Rosie kept her hands in the pockets of a thick pullover she'd found in the closet of a neighbor's house she'd been staying in, with her shotgun balanced on her forearm. It was a cold night, and the moisture in the air spelled rain soon enough. But rounds would still carry on, even if it hailed. 

She spotted him sitting on the steps of Rick's home, his Busse combat knife in hand, but also tinkering with something else. He looked to be concentrating hard on whatever he was doing; it was a shame those shaggy bangs of his hid his face so much. But she approached him anyways, purposely dragging her feet to alert him. 

"Hey friend." She said quietly, and he gestured his head towards her, quickly hiding what ever object was in his hand. "You have rounds tonight?" She asked, but he shook his head, leaning forward onto the tops of his knees once he stuffed the unknown item in his pocket. 

"Can't sleep." He replied, slowly spinning his knife in hand. "Mind if I sit?" She asked, doing a once over of the space behind her. Glenn was also patrolling; the area would be fine for a few minutes. She sat closer than usual beside him, but he didn't shy away. He could smell the coconut shampoo from her curly hair that was all around her shoulders as she sat by him. "Kinda lonely out here." She said, her hands still stuffed into her pockets. Daryl shrugged. "S'alright. No ones awake so no one to talk to." He said. 

"I'm awake. You can talk to me." She said, turning to look at him. "I do talk to ya." He said, and she nodded. 

"I mean if you ever get lonely- or just wanna vent. You can always talk to me. Or even if you just wanna sit by someone." She explained, grinning at him. He felt his cheeks redden but turned away in hopes she wouldn't see. "You too." He said, and she tilted her head a bit. "You can talk t'me." He finished. 

"I don't yap your head off enough already?" She asked, playfully bumping shoulders with him. 

"Guess not." He said sarcastically. "I like our talk, never get dull." He added quietly, again hiding his face. "You know you can be kinda chatty too, once you get going about something." She teased. "No I'm not." He mumbled, and she giggled. 

"It's okay- you're my best friend here, I'd probably lose my mind if you didn't talk back at least sometimes." Rosie smiled at him now, the shadow of her face from the street light hiding her usually bright eyes. That made his heart flutter, but he wondered if she at all felt the same way he did? Time would tell, he supposed.

"Rick let me choose a house." She said suddenly, looking down at her boots that were old and ugly. "About time." He replied, also looking down at his feet. 

"I didn't realize how big they were ‘till you're in one alone." She said, her voice trailing off. And then she took a deep breath, and turned her body to face him. "Wanna be my roommate? I don't know if you live somewhere- I've never really seen you stay anywhere." She said, a little nervous. His mind was a flurry of emotions and words, but he kept a calm composure, simply opting to nod his head. "I'll try it out." He said, and she nodded, smiling. 

The first drop was on her boots, and then the rest of the rain fell in succession after that. The two of them looked up from under the overhang of the porch as a steady sheet of fall rain coated Alexandria. 

"Well my house is the one right in front of the dock at the pond- there's a crack in the porch beam. I gotta get back to rounds. Don't be a stranger." Rosie said, patting his hand, and letting it slide away before pulling her hair into her hood and walking into the rain. "See ya." He said, watching as she walked with her shoulders brought in tight until she disappeared down the street. The skin of his hand felt hot where she touched; his fist curled and he pulled the item he'd been carving back out of his pocket. 

It wasn't until that morning that she'd already been relieved of her rounds and the rain had let up some that he walked to her house, and even walked inside quietly to look around. 

It looked like everyone else's, but he was sure she'd change something. According to the few other inhabitants that had had her stay a while at their homes including Rosita, she moved her room around often, never settling too long. 

He could see that her backpacks and a few bags of clothing she'd gathered along the way were already placed on the table by the kitchen, and upon stepping into the living room, he spotted a booted foot hanging over the arm of the sofa. Daryl walked around it, and found her splayed across the couch, sleeping. She looked like she'd tried to stay up and read a little based on the old book that was over her stomach, but succumbed to exhaustion. "Dork." He whispered, walking back to the kitchen and looking around. He filled his water bottle up, and even snagged an apple from the basket at the center counter. She was right- those houses were big when there wasn't anyone making noise in them. 

More likely than not, he'd move in. But he'd take his time seeing how it went. 

It wasn't even a week that passed that it took for Rosie to move something around. The couches were moved to surround the fireplace, and blankets were brought down to said couches where she often slept. A couple nights she'd fall asleep as they talked, and he'd sit with her a while, even enjoying her company then.

Where as everyone's house was neat and proper like a catalogue for a realtor, Rosie's home was... home-y. Not messy so much, just actually looked lived in. Shoes were placed at the front door, candles were almost always lit, and every night she took it upon herself to make dinner. Even if he hadn't officially moved in yet, he still hovered around, especially for breakfast and dinner. She was like Carol in the sense that she could make any meal out of anything. Her spot was behind the counter of the bar across from him, and they'd chat while they ate, often passing opinions back and forth about what the next meal should be. And she'd leave snacks out for him if she wasn't to be home in time for meals. He'd repay the favor by doing the 'grocery shopping', as she called it. 

"When did you become so domesticated?" Carol teased once as he wandered around the pantry with a bag. 

Michonne had been nearby when she said that, and couldn't stop the chuckling that followed. Daryl glared at them both, grabbing a few more things before stomping away. The red rice was worth it, though. 

And the few nights they both had off, they'd sit on the porch together. Rosie was always reading and curled in a blanket, and Daryl would either clean his weapons or go about carving whatever he'd been working on for quite some time. They liked just sitting together, watching the world around them go by.

\---

They'd gone a little farther this time, opting to more thoroughly scout out a few turn-offs that no one in Alexandria had looked down before. But there was a whole lot of nothing, and that irritated Daryl. "Waste of gas." He snapped, walking back to the car after investigating a small cabin that was falling apart. Rosie stood there a moment, just staring at the crumbling pieces that used to be a home, and wondered just what happened to it to be in this condition. She'd seen the broken crib inside, and upon the various rooms noted that there had been children's toys. Burnt pictures that once hung on walls were scattered, as well as laundry that looked to had been freshly washed and folded when what ever happened here happened. She sighed. 

"Let’s go!" Daryl called, and she turned to return to the car. 

\--- 

They could've easily made it over state lines within a day if they hadn't made so many detours, and by the time they'd finished siphoning gas from abandoned cars, the chill of sunset was setting in, leaving them no option but to hide the car deep amongst the trees and start a fire. 

"I imagine people who owned dairy farms out in places like Arizona had plenty to eat with all those cows." Rosie said, fixing them both plates of food cooked in cans over the small fire. "Assuming they could keep walkers from eatin' the cows." He commented, grabbing the plate she handed him. 

"True. I'd kill for some meat in my diet again. I miss cheese burgers." She mumbled, taking a bite of her canned beans. 

"When I had my crossbow I got squirrels. Sometimes opossum." Daryl started, but shifted a little. "Someone always complained though." He grumbled. 

Rosie eyed him curiously. "About the squirrels?" She asked. He nodded. "Lori used to complain about huntin' 'em but for a while that's what kept us goin'." He explained, but Rosie was confused. "Lori?" She asked. 

"Ricks wife." He answered, taking another bite. 

Rosie thought that Michonne was- oh. 

"Judith's mom?" She asked. "She died havin' Judith." He said, looking at her. Rosie shook her head. "That's a shame." She said, pushing her food around. 

"You had a crossbow?" She recalled him mentioning, and he nodded with a deep sigh. "Some prick took it with my bike while back." He told her quietly, obviously still angry over it. 

"You had a bike too?" She asked around a mouthful of food. Daryl placed his cleaned plate down, looking at her with narrow eyes. "Had." 

\---

Fall was unusually cold this time around, but Rosie thought maybe since there was no more cars or businesses or people polluting the world anymore, this is how the seasons actually were supposed to be. Either way, the both of them had retreated into the front seats of the car that night, bundled in their jackets and their eyes always watching around them. 

Her eyes roamed over their map with a flashlight on her shoulder, trying to recognize any streets or towns she'd wandered through until she came across one; Crooked Lane. She'd remembered that unusual name, and it leading to a clearance store that was nestled in a strip mall a little closer to the city, and by the looks of it, they weren't too far from it. "There's a strip mall here we can look at." She showed him.

"There's walkers in the city." He retorted, not really wanting to visit. "It's near the city, not in it." She argued, folding the map and wiggling deeper into her jackets. "Could have crossbows." She said silently, and he snorted. "Yeah right." He said, folding his arms. 

"I can make more rattle cans if there's a lot." She suggested, looking at him. He was chewing on his nails- Rosie pulled his hand away. "You're gonna get sick." She said, and they eyed each other, but she didn't back down. 

"We'll check it out." He mumbled; she nodded. Just then a walker emerged from the trees, wandering by the car but unaware of the two inside. They both watched, expecting more to follow. 

"I was stuck in a dumpster for two days once because a group of them lingered. My gun and axe were just sitting outside of it too, but it was too risky to grab for it. Smelliest two days of my life." Rosie told him, sniffling as her nose began to run. Their breath was even visible when they spoke, but Daryl didn't seem bothered by the cold. "The sun beat on it all day, too. It was the worst." She added, wiping her nose with discarded papers in the car. Daryl looked at her, and pulled his dark red cloth from his back pocket and handed it to her. 

"Who's gonna get sick?" He asked, and she snatched it from his hand with a grin. "It's cause it's cold." She told him, wiping her nose and keeping it balled up in her hand. "I'll wash it." 

He only nodded. 

"Me 'n a friend once got pinned in the trunk of a car during the summer. We'd been runnin' from walkers all day 'n it was the only place we could find." Daryl told her, recalling the memory with Beth. Still some ache left, after all. 

"Who was this with?" She asked, wiping her nose again. 

Daryl shifted- Rosie knew now that this meant he was uncomfortable. "She died." He said only. Rosie looked back out to another walker wandering by. 

\---

"That was bullshit." Daryl barked, looking over the edge of the roof to the mob of walkers around the building they'd escaped up the side of. "Too many for my rattlers." Rosie said, feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, resting her hands on her hips. Daryl looked at her, undoubtedly angry, but not really at her. She had his red cloth hanging out of her front pocket; it looked good with her. "Let's get goin' then." He said, tapping her shoulder. Rosie nodded and followed, avoiding depressions in the roof and stepping cautiously. 

They'd peak in before dropping down, and only if they could get back up which resulted in only visiting a market that was pretty much cleared out. They walked pretty far down away from the large group that had originally chased them up the fire escape, down to where the buildings only had a handful of walkers still wandering around. By the time they reached the end of the strip mall, it was all restaurants and a bar, and they'd only collected an arms full worth of items- nothing really useful except some duct tape. 

"Even if we had a truck, bringin' a bench home would be pointless." Daryl said, helping push Rosie up through the roof slots of a furniture store by the back of her thighs; they were nice and toned. She hoisted herself up, looking down at him through the hole first. "Did you not see how gorgeous it was?" She said, reaching a hand out to him. "Yeah I did." He said, grabbing her hand and then crawling out beside her. 

A familiar squelching noise caught her attention, and she craned her neck to look over the edge of the roof. "D'you hear that?" She whispered, and he looked around them. 

Rosie crawled to the edge, eventually lowering onto her stomach before spotting the thin man that had just finished cutting into the head of a walker with a machete. He was beside a bike, and he looked to have just been looting these buildings himself. She looked back at Daryl and gestured him to join her, telling him to lower down. 

He crawled up beside her and nearly threw a fit. 

Rosie looked back and forth between them as he shuffled away quickly, far enough to where he could stand. "What what what?" She asked silently, but he looked furious. "That's the fuckin' dickhead that took my crossbow and bike!" He snapped, and her eyes widened, looking back over. "No shit?" She asked. 

Daryl pulled his knife from his hip, heading towards the opening of the roof. "Where are you going?" She hissed, grabbing his arm. "Take back what's mine!" He said, trying to free his arm. 

"And what if there's more somewhere else? What if we're outnumbered and they kill us?" She argued, and he stopped. "Let me distract him- if more show up I'll run in the woods and you can track me later." She suggested, tightening her backpack and handing her gun to him. 

"That's crazy." He said, but she already had her legs dangling in the opening. She hung there for a moment by her hands, landing with a soft crack atop old papers and trash. Daryl still followed her, joining her where she looked out the clouded windows. She looked concentrated, careful. "I'm gonna run across into that restaurant, and get his attention. When you get the bike in front, rev it so I know to run out." She explained. Her plan wasn't half bad, but still risky. Anything could go wrong. She was tying her hair up when she looked at him. "Don't forget me." She mentioned. 

He gave her a sarcastic look; did she really just say that?

They both opened the door slowly, only wide enough until she could run through. But they had to wait until he turned away. When he finally did, she looked at Daryl. 

"See ya soon." She whispered, and then she was bolting across the street. Daryl watched as she dodged a walker and made it to the front door of the building, purposely slamming into it to grab Dwight's attention. "Hey!" He yelled, spinning just in time to see her disappear inside. He ran up to the door that was still cracked open, his machete raised as he slowly moved inside. This was already making Daryl nervous- he didn't like being this far away or having her out of sight.

She sat behind a booth, steadying her breath and listening to his heavy footfalls move around. 

"I seen you run in here, you don't gotta be afraid." He said in a mock comforting tone. Rosie rolled her eyes. One of those guys. "You lost? Looking for somewhere to stay?" He asked, and as he rounded one booth, she'd move onto the next, working her way back. “My name’s Dwight, but you can call me D, if you’d like.” he added, trying to quietly move around the cluttered room.

"I can take you to where I live- there's lots of people, we all take care of each other..." he paused; he caught sight of the ends of her hair as she crawled farther back. "We have food, and water, and medical supplies." He said with a smile. But as he lurched forward to catch her sitting there, she'd already moved on. 

"You got anyone else with you?" Dwight asked. "Any kids?" He added, and Rosie shook her head from behind the counter at the farthest end of the store. If she could just get him in the kitchen in time, she'd have him far enough where she could run. But he was getting closer, and she didn't know if she could get around back without him seeing her. She looked for stones, or large pieces of glass she could toss, but nothing was there. She'd have to just go for it. 

Rosie shuffled swiftly into the kitchen, leaving the door swinging behind her. 

Dwight still approached it cautiously, his machete raised and ready to kill. "Hey there, you don't have to be scared." He said in a low voice, and slowly pushed open the door. 

Rosie didn't hide this time, but stood at the end of the kitchen across from him, beside another set of double swinging doors. He kept his back against the open door, smiling at her. It made her skin crawl. "Nice to meet you." He said, but she just glared at him. "My names Dwight. And yours?" He asked; still unmoving. Rosie eyed the extensive scar that covered the left side of his face, and could only wonder what caused it.

And then Daryl finally revved the bike, and Rosie pushed through the doors. Unfortunately, since Dwight had his already open, he covered more ground than she did right off the bat and he was beside her when she passed the counter. The cut of his machete at her side made her wobble, but she still bolted, pulling chairs behind her and effectively tripping him. She could hear his machete clang against the ground, and through the foggy window she could see Daryl sitting on his bike, his gun pointed and ready. 

Rosie groaned uncomfortably when she used her side to throw open the door, and could feel the warmth of blood against her side when she held her hand there. But she still ran to him, skidding a bit before she seated behind him and held onto his waist. 

"Go!" She yelled, and easily he shifted into gear and was off, leaving Dwight behind, defeated and cursing loudly. It was easy enough to maneuver between walkers on the bike, but every bump was uncomfortable for Rosie. Where she kept one hand on Daryl's side, her other was on her own, trying to apply pressure despite the ache and stinging. She had medical supplies at the car, and thankfully he maintained a fast pace on the bike until they arrived. 

He didn't let onto it, but he was overjoyed to have his motorcycle back. He'd built it from scratch, and it still ran smoothly. He even zigzagged a bit widely through the empty lanes, enjoying the feel of open wind at his sides. Upon arriving, Daryl parked beside the car in the trees, his feet walking the bike. He moved while she sat, and didn't notice her head was hung and both her hands holding her side until he moved to check the bag underneath the seat. "Right through my favorite jacket." She mumbled. 

"He stab you?" He exclaimed, fear coating his voice as he held her by the elbows to help her stand. "No no, I'm okay, he just swiped me." She said, fully able to walk to the car on her own; she just didn't want to. He hurried after her and frantically opened the car door and popped the medical kit, his usually steady hands a bit shaken.

She told him what to do, and how to prepare dressings as she kept her hands at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Up until he had to clean it, she was fine, but now she hesitated lifting her jacket and shirts. "Ya gotta clean it." He said, standing with saline and gauze in his hands. Those small lessons they'd exchanged would finally come in handy. Rosie sighed, and lifted her clothes. 

He didn't say, and didn't ask, but the stretch marks covering her stomach said a lot. A piece of her past he'd speculated on, but never asked about. But this put it all together. Somewhere along the lines, she'd had children. 

Rosie was thankful he didn't ask about them, but she kept her eyes on his hands wiping away blood and cleaning the thin gash so he wouldn't see the nervousness in her. She cringed and tensed every time he wiped at her, and he would mumble an apology, but she never asked him to stop. She knew how it went- it could've been worse. But when he had to run large Q-tips inside the wound, she opted to lean against the car and pinch her eyes shut. Seeing others wounds and blood never bothered her, but her own always made her feel faint. Finally, the bandage was taped over it, and she could lower her clothes, and look at her bloody hands. "Y'alright?" He asked, and she nodded with a grin. 

"Oh yeah." She replied, turning to look at his bike as she used alcohol to wash the blood away from her hands. "So that's it?" She asked, and he shifted. "Ain't worth it?" He asked. 

"Actually... it's hot. Rugged. Suits you." She said, patting his arm and moving to the car after he'd put away the kit and her hands were wiped on her jeans, climbing in the driver's seat. "We should head out before he catches up." She said with a groan. 

"Sure you're good t'drive?" He asked, leaning in the window after she'd closed the door. Rosie only nodded, resting her head against the seat and hanging an arm besides his. "Lead the way, gringo." She said in a sigh. 

Daryl wasn't used to seeing a side of her like this. She was putting on a mask of everything was fine, but he could see she was uncomfortable, and a little pale. But she looked breathtaking in the shade like that with the sun peeking through leaves against her face. She really never stopped moving; nothing could hold her back. He looked at the road ahead of them for a moment, then back at her, biting his cheek. "Hot, huh?" He asked with a smirk. Rosie chuckled, tugging on an end of his hair and moving some from his eyes. 

She caught the red in his cheeks that time, but he walked to the bike before she could say something. She started the car and watched him easily pull out of the trees and turn onto the street. "I like you." She said to herself, wanting mostly to be held around him again on the bike. 

 

They drove for a while, skipping dirt roads and only looking for something worth stopping for. Rosie was sore, even after popping a few painkillers. She knew not to take too many. After sitting for so long on shelves, they could have a delayed effect. She'd seen plenty times in her years as a paramedic what that could do to someone. 

Daryl eventually pulled into an abandoned gas station, and she parked beside him. Rosie slowly moved from the seat, still leaning against the front of the car with her arms crossed. "I'll hang back." She said, holding her hatchet against her chest. He lingered a moment, but then went about scoping out the inside. Rosie sighed restlessly. She wasn't going to say it, but she was concerned the cut was going to get infected. Who knew how many walkers he'd used to slice open with that very blade; she'd have to do some deep cleaning and stitching when she got back. No way in hell she was gonna become one of- 

Bock. 

Her eyes widened, and she didn't move. The soreness of her side was set at the back of her mind as she stood straight, and when Daryl came out, she held a hand up to stop him. 

And then he saw the chicken. 

"Rosie..." he said softly, looking at her. He had a hunch of what she was going to do next, and didn't like it. Daryl knew that look of hers. With wide eyes that were pinned intently on her target, ready to attack. "It's a chicken, Daryl." She whispered, taking a step towards it and freezing when it jumped a bit away. 

"A single chicken- s'not worth it." He argued, and she shook her head. "A single chicken lays eggs daily." She said- another step. "Rosie." He said a little louder, and the pecking chicken took a few steps away. She twitched a bit, latching her axe at her hip. 

She glared at him. "You're not gonna no damn chicken." He said firmly. "You gonna do it for me then?" She asked. "No." he replied, walking towards her loudly. And then the chicken was fleeing, and so was Rosie. 

"Rosie!" He yelled, watching as she bolted after it and behind the store that was set at the edge of the trees. Rosie grunted past the burning at her side, and she slipped and twisted between trees and stumps to stay on its tail. Daryl lost sight of her when she ran behind the building and into the thick trees, and relied mostly on the distant sound of her steps and the tracks the left behind. "Rosie!" He hissed, doing his best to run after her. 

"You little shit!" She spat out, nearly tripping and effectively bumping her side against a tree. Rosie coughed- it felt like her skin opened a little more with that, but she kept chasing it, unwilling to go back empty handed. 

Her hands were outstretched, and she was so close- but the chicken ran right into the snarling hands of a walker. She gasped. "NO!" She bellowed, drawing her axe up. 

Daryl heard her yell, and he panicked. He stopped to look all around him, unable to pinpoint where her voice had come from. "Rosie?" He called. "Rosie?" Again, no answer. Oh god, what if she ran into a walker? Or Dwight!? 

"Rosie!" He yelled. 

"Yeah?" Her voice finally came, and he spun to watch her pushing back a bushel of dead branches, the damn chicken in her other arm. 

"Are ya out of y'goddamn mind?" Daryl snapped, stomping over to her. She was taken aback- "Excuse me?" She asked him, holding her chicken closer. 

"You can't go runnin' off for some stupid shit like a fuckin' chicken! You could've run into walkers!" He yelled, his eyes narrow and furious. "And I didn't- now we have a chicken that can provide eggs! More food, Daryl! There's nothing stupid about it!" She too yelled now, her face twisting into irritation. 

"You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep pullin' shit like-," but she stopped him. 

"The same shit that got you your bike back?" She said quietly, and he paused. They stared at one another, waiting for the other to say something. But that had stopped Daryl dead in his tracks, enough to make him turn on his heel and walk away back to the cars. She waited until there was a considerable distance between them... and then followed slowly. Running aggravated her wound, and she was sure she'd start bleeding through the bandage soon enough. "But I got a chicken." She whispered to herself, scratching its head. 

He was already sitting on his rumbling bike when she made it back, and looked away when she emerged from the trees. Without a word she went back to the car and put the chicken in the back seat, and followed him down the road. 

Daryl really hadn't been mad, just... scared. His lack of properly conveying emotions got the better of him once again. After executing that plan to get his bike back, he was already a ball of unsettled nerves and then her running off into nothing like that- he didn't know what he'd do if he lost her. He couldn’t even fathom it. She was too important to him. But Rosie was still angry. With her cheek rested in her hand and the other steering, she watched Daryl ride down the street, occasionally looking off to his sides and observing around them. She assumed he knew that they'd have to set up camp again that night; trekking home would be too risky in the dark. She grumbled to herself. “Stupid.” she said under her breath, and flinched when the chicken fluttered to the front seat. "I'll tie you up if you do that again." She told the bird, which only pecked at her hand when she moved to nudge it. "Hey!" She snapped. 

\---

Camp had been made.  
Dinner had been eaten.  
Her chicken, which she now called 'Pollo Bowl', was tied by its leg to their camp and wandering around.  
Rosie had her nose in her tattered book, and Daryl was carving the hidden item again.

And they hadn't spoken to one another since their fight. 

It bothered Rosie greatly. They'd gotten into disputes before, but this was a new level of silence. There was a tension in the air they'd never shared before. She knew they weren't in a good way, and with each passing minute, it irritated her more and more. She needed to defuse the silence somehow. 

Rosie looked back down to her book. 

"Barren, silent, godless. He thought the month was October, but he wasn't sure-,"

"What are ya doin'?" Daryl asked; it worked! "Reading." She replied, looking at him. He didn't say anything after that. Okay, maybe it didn't... Rosie shifted a bit, looking back to her book. What she'd do to have earphones right now. 

"You don't'ave to stop." He mumbled, returning to his task. She peaked at him from behind her book, and raised it a little to hide her grin. 

"But he wasn't sure. He hadn't kept a calendar for years. There'd be no surviving another winter here." Rosie read to him silently, her voice defusing the tension and settling him into comfort. His sour attitude dissipated and so did hers, but there was no need to speak of it again. They went back to what they always enjoyed- spending time with one another. 

And that was the first time Rosie saw Daryl sleeping; her reading had done so. She looked at him when she closed her book, and reached beside her to carefully move his hair from his face. A grin, and then she stood silently to sit atop the hood of the car; she'd take watch that night. 

\---

"You found a chicken?" Carl asked, wiggling the bird when Rosie handed it to him. 

"We could have real eggs- all the food you use eggs for." Maggie said, already mentally mapping out a spot to make a chicken coop. Rosie looked at Daryl with a smug grin, but he just pushed her playfully before sitting back on his bike. "C'mon, then." He said, waiting for her to sit down after she parked the car along the gate. 

"Huh?" Rosie asked, holding the straps of her backpack. "You need to see Denise 'bout that cut." He said, and she shivered. Oh, here comes pain. "Oh yeah... you mind taking Pollo Bowl?" She asked Maggie. 

"Pollo what?" She asked. 

"She named the damn chicken after a fast-food meal." Daryl told her, and Carl laughed. "Either that or Daryl Jr." Rosie said, leaning close to his ear as she sat down behind him. He let the bike jolt a bit when he gave it gas, but it only made her giggle. She took the few brief moments to keep her arms around him, and try to memorize how he felt against her. He was so warm, but stiff with muscle. This is my spot, she thought to herself, about to rest her head against him when he stopped in front of Denise's. 

"Need a ride home?" He joked, and she snorted. 

"Never thought I'd have a personal escort service." She said, still a bit sore as she stood to walk to the front door. Daryl watched her walk in, still holding her side and waving to him as she closed the door. 

"You got it back?" Carol asked, walking up to him with a bag of food over her shoulder. "Thanks to Rosie. She'got hurt though." He told Carol, his eyes dropping a bit. 

"But I can bet my bucks that it was her idea." She said, and he nodded. "Can't stop a firecracker." She added, handing him a small baggies of cookies she had made before walking away. Daryl stuffed the bag into his vest pocket and observed around him first. They'd have the day to rest and then back to work the following morning- that reminded him. Daryl rolled away easily and with a turn and round around the large pond at the center, he was sitting in front of Rosie's house. He'd spent a couple nights over there, and often joined her for meals, but now it felt fit to officially move in. 

 

Rick chuckled, his arm around Michonne's shoulders and pulling her a little more against his side where they sat on their porch swing. 

"I told you." He said, pushing them back and forth. "I never denied it, I just thought it was... unlikely." She argued, crossing her arms. They both watched Daryl park his newly reclaimed bike in front of Rosie's house and carry their bags in; everyone had exchanged hushed words about the new duo when they had left, and Michonne had mentioned how unusual it was to see him warm up to someone so considerably. 

"Besides- he's just at her house, doesn't mean anything." She also stated, and he scoffed. "He follows her around everywhere. If not now then they'll be an item soon enough." He told her, kissing her cheek. Michonne tittered, pushing on his side. 

\---

Rosie wobbled down the street, still feeling a bit bobble-headed after the insane amount of painkillers she'd inhaled. The wound at her side had already started to show signs of infection, so it had been decided by both her and Denise to cut and scrape away any exposed flesh and skin, then suture together the edges in hopes it would keep bacteria out. All this had been done with no local anesthetic, and besides Rosie having a high pain tolerance, it hurt like hell. The antibiotics and painkillers had also effectively knocked her out for a few hours, so by the time she was wandering down the street, the sun wasn't visible over Alexandria's walls anymore. Rosie hadn't even bothered to put her shirt back on; stretching now hurt too much. 

She'd simply zipped her hoodie up to hide the bandaging around her waist, but she still received strange looks. Her meandering appearance was a stark comparison to her usual cheery attitude. But she still tried to at least grin at passing members, although all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. 

She'd finally made it to her house, and was idling up the steps when she stopped. Something occurred to her; something that wasn't there before. Carefully she stepped backwards and looked to her side- and there was Daryl's bike parked in her driveway. The smile that spread across her lips was hidden when she covered her mouth, and she fought to hide it when she walked back up her steps and opened the door. They almost bumped chests, but easily he moved around her, looking down at her sleepy face. 

"Y'alright?" Daryl asked, layered in a flannel and vest; the nights were getting colder. 

"Yeah just sore. You out for watch tonight?" She asked, and he nodded. "Brought some stuff and fixed a couple things. I'll see you in the mornin' though." He said, gently bumping his knuckles against her chin. He turned and skipped down the steps, but she walked after him. "You gonna let your bike do all the talking?" She called to him with a grin, holding her side. 

"Gets the point across, don't it?" He said with a grin, his bangs hiding the playfulness in his eyes. "Go rest!" He demanded, waving an arm behind himself as he walked down the street, a rifle slung across his back. He met up with Rick who was also patrolling that night, so Rosie chuckled, walking back into her home. 

"Finally chose a house?" Rick asked, his thumbs hung on his gun belt. 

"For the most part." Daryl answered with a cigarette pressed between his lips as he lit it. Rick looked back to make sure Rosie wasn't within ears shot. 

"You two are getting close?" He asked, observing their surroundings and waving to Tobin as he walked along the planks atop the wall. Daryl didn't answer, but instead took in a long drag of his smoke. "We're friends." He finally mumbled in return after a long pause. 

"Friends don't steal whole chocolate bars for other friends when it's the last one." Rick argued, and Daryl eyed him, somewhat bothered. He must not have been as sly as he thought he'd been. 

"You got mints for Michonne." He snapped, and Rick looked at him with a smirk. "It's like that, huh?" The former sheriff asked, and Daryl adjusted the gun across his back as he approached a ladder to the wall. 

"Yeah, it's like that." He answered, leaving Rick behind.

Upon entering her house, there was a small pile of canned goods and various snacks that she assumed he'd picked up from the pantry for her, including a whole bar of chocolate that was still frozen. Rosie bit her bottom lip- did she have the willpower to not eat it all at once? Probably not. But behind her small treasures was her black faux leather jacket she'd worn the previous day, and up front she could see that the slice that had been made by Dwight's machete was mended shut. She gasped, picking up the item of clothing and inspecting how he'd gone about doing that. A secret of the trade, perhaps. Either way, she was relieved her favorite jacket was no longer ruined. And although she wanted to join Daryl on rounds and thank him, her eyes were still heavy and her body still sluggish as she walked passed the counter. 

Yet again, something caught her eyes. Something more that was out of place. 

Hung on the back of a bar stool was the black jacket Daryl had been wearing during their last run. She grinned. That settled that. 

It became clear- very quickly, that Daryl was a peculiar one to live with. He never seemed to actually sleep, and despite being quiet, he left a trail of disaster behind him close to that of a tornado that he was definitely not willing to pick up. 

Rosie sometimes would hold off cleaning until late in the night when his trail of destruction ended, but strangely enough, when she left clothes about in the bathroom or over backs of chairs, it would always end up washed and placed in her room by him. In piles, that is. 

One night, while he actually took the chance to lounge in his bed with his boots kicked off, he heard exaggerated singing ringing from the bathroom, and sometimes the drumming of her hands on the shower walls. That's when he learned she had a taste for just about every genre of music there was. 

Rosie started to leave snacks on counter tops that he'd always snatch up. 

Daryl liked the shades drawn, even at night. It made him feel safer. 

She loved to rearrange the living room and her own room; the new formation of furniture kept her from getting bored. Eventually, he let her move his room around, also. 

He didn't particularly shower often, and despite never actually smelling, Rosie noticed he'd leave dirty spots on furniture from his clothes. As a joke, she one time followed him around the house with a bowl of soapy water and wash cloths until he showered.

And sometimes if they had separate shifts for watch, Rosie would pass off the clothing she stitched for him in those brief moments they had to one another. But they'd always meet for dinner, chatting, and even laughing sometimes. She truly brought the best out in him. From that first time they sat around a small fire in the dark trees, anytime they'd sit together on their porch she'd read to him. Always one of the same three books, but he just couldn't get enough of hearing her voice. Of any of her, actually. He just wanted her all. 

Daryl was oblivious to her emotions, to the small signals and looks she'd give him. When they'd sit by each other, and he'd brush against her, she'd always hope for him to grab her hand, or wrap an arm around her. When others teased that they made a good couple, she'd never deny it, only smile and bump his arm with hers. He'd just shoo others away with their teasing, trying to hide his embarrassment or annoyance. 

One day, she'd tell herself. One day she'll get him to see it. Until then, she purely enjoyed his friendship. 

\---

"An apothecary? Really?" Rosie asked, her voice hoarse and sniffling often. Daryl pushed the covers off her legs when she tried to wrap herself. "You need t'break that fever." He grumbled, glaring at her. Rosie glared back. They were equally annoyed. 

"I'm okay enough to go." She argued again, resting her arm on her forehead. "Whatever. You'll slow us down." He replied, handing her the water bottle he'd refilled and standing from the spot beside her on the couch she laid on. "How are you gonna recognize medicine?" She snapped, sitting enough to look back at him as he rounded the couch. "Denise is going with." He answered her, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Good luck with that..." she mumbled, rubbing her heated cheeks before reaching for the blanket again. Daryl snatched it from her though, balling it up and tossing it aside. "I hate you." She groaned, coughing as she rolled onto her side. Since she’d been sick, the house wasn’t as clean, and the air was stale. She only wanted to keep everything closed, and dark. Just as he’d gotten used to having their home open, and letting light in- boom. Gnarly cold.

"See ya later." He called to her as he walked to the front door, but she just groaned loudly. 

He hated it just as much as she did. Not just going out without his first choice in partner, but ultimately going with Denise. She didn't know the outside like they did. At least Rosita was tagging along. Rosie sighed angrily when she heard the door close behind him, and glanced back to make sure he had actually left, and then over to the blanket he'd taken from her that was on the opposite couch from her. More groaning. 

But one of his jackets that was laid over the back of her couch would do just fine. She snatched it and covered her arms, equally enjoying the coziness of it and the smell that was him- wilderness and cigarette smoke. "Asshole." She mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. 

\---

It was later in the day when she woke up, feeling not so horrible and finally without a fever. Before deciding to wander out of her house, she chugged down her bottle of water and pulled on a thick sweater. Gloom had washed over Alexandria, and her breath was visible before her when she stepped into the chilled air. The trio still hadn't returned, but she wasn't worried. 

"Feeling better?" Michonne asked, meeting up with Rosie on the street. 

"Yeah, still kind of bleh but better than before." She explained, her hands stuffing into her pockets after she twisted her curls behind her head so they weren't tickling her cheeks. "Crappy timing to be getting sick." She added, looking all around her. "Abraham and Eugene?”

"They took off, too." Michonne told her, bouncing the end of her katana at her side against her palm. 

"That's a lot out at once." Rosie observed, wondering how Daryl's temperament was holding up. "Too many-," but Michonne's words were cut short at the sound of a car horn blaring at the front gate. They both jogged to the old pickup truck that raced inside to Denise's house, and Rosie stepped beside Daryl when he rushed from the driver's seat and helped carry Eugene from the bed of the truck with Abraham beside him. 

"What happened?" Michonne asked, grabbing one of his legs. None of them answered, and instead focused on getting him from the truck without further aggravating his wounds. "Where's Denise?" Rosie asked, and Daryl only had to look at her for her to understand. Something had gone terribly wrong in that small errand run. 

 

His side had only been grazed from the bullet, and thanks to Denise spotting that apothecary, they had the antibiotics that insured Eugene's injury wouldn't become infected. Rosie had cleaned and bandaged it, and assured Rosita that sleeping was normal after an injury such as that, especially after the rough ride home.

She moved to Daryl who'd stayed looking out the window of the room the entire time. His senses were on high, and he couldn't shake the anger he felt in his bones. 

He didn't say anything, didn't show it, but she could see the turmoil in his eyes when he looked at her. He'd grown fond of Denise, and to have Dwight of all people to be the one to take her life only added to the bitterness of it. She didn't try to hold him, or make him speak; she only looked at him from the other side of the window frame. He didn't pull his gaze away or move from her. Rosie offered the smallest of smiles to him. Usually it'd help, but today... he only felt sad. 

He still didn't talk when he came home from burying Denise, nor did he talk during dinner. He barely touched his food, but he still followed her to the porch when she grabbed her old book to read for a while. He sat across from her on the floor, his back rested against the frame and his hands and knife working on whatever he'd been hiding for months. Rosie read silently, but she knew from reading this one at least a dozen times, that a particular paragraph always made her emotional, and brought back memories of her former life. 

"Then he sat there holding the binoculars and watching the ashen daylight congeal over the land." She paused, sighing. "He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: if he is not the word of God- God never spoke." 

Her voice faded softly, and she closed the dog eared book to set in her lap, looking to her side at the dark street. She could feel it bubbling up, and fought to keep a lid on the despair that sat in her heart. Daryl looked up at her, wondering why she'd stopped reading. He'd noticed before when she read this book that she would pause to collect her thoughts, but this time was different. He could see her face tensed, as if choking down a cry. "Rosie?" He finally spoke, but she didn't respond. He dropped his hands. "Rosie." He said again. This time she looked back, but down to her hands gripping the book. 

"I miss my kids." She said softly, her voice shaking. He listened as she finally looked up; he could see tears pooling in her eyes. 

"I have two toddlers and a husband, wrapped in sheets in the apartment I left them in." Rosie told him. There was more than he'd originally thought- not just children. 

"We'd found this complex that was above a market and liquor store, and we barricaded ourselves in. It was a good spot- one main entrance and we could move along the rooftops when we needed something. 

"But my husband... I don't know how he could always fall asleep so easily everywhere. Even when they were outside, even when the kids were upset. He could fall asleep." Rosie paused to take a breath. It was reopening; the memories she'd locked away behind that heavy door to remind her that that was an unsafe place to tread. 

"We needed diapers, and I'd gone to get them... and I guess he fell asleep. Benicio was smart- he knew how to unlock the door, and Stella would always follow her big brother." Rosie pinched her eyes shut. "That image of looking out the window of the store when I heard them scream- seeing him hold his hands up to stop them from biting- I can't..." she stopped to rest her face in her hands; her shoulders were visibly shaking. Daryl still listened, his brows furrowed in horror. 

"I couldn't get to them in time and they died! I couldn’t let them become one of those so I... I did what I had to do.

"And I carried them upstairs, and he... he was still just fucking sleeping. But when he woke up, I couldn't stand him. I hated him, but I wanted to be held by him, but I couldn't love him after that... so I killed him." Rosie said silently, tears now rolling down her cheeks. "And I laid them together. And I left." She finished. Before wiping her face repeatedly, she wound her hair up, but soft sobs still wracked through her body. That heavy emotion that had no words to describe how badly it burned and ached sat on her chest, left her breathless and begging for relief. It'd be with her forever, and she knew that, but hoped one day it would be lesser. 

Daryl didn't know what to say, how to help her. He'd helped Carol when she grieved for Sophia, but hers had been severed and clean. This was an open and jagged wound that still bled. 

"Before we came 'ere, we lost someone'n our group. Maggie's younger sister Beth." Rosie looked to him, still trying to calm the quake in her body. 

"We'd been attacked by a different group- me n' Beth got separated from everyone a while, found different places 'n spent lotta of time together." He looked at her for a moment, and then down. "She got taken from me- it took a while t'find her again but when we did... she got killed." He told her. His own loss wasn't as powerful as Rosie's anymore, but the aftershocks still affected him, as they probably always would. Sometimes he missed her, and her company. 

Rosie sniffled, and rested her head against the house. The friend who he'd been stuck in a trunk with, one that he'd mentioned on occasion but never revealed the name. More than a friend, she saw now. 

"You loved her." Rosie said- Daryl only sighed. 

He did. But now, it was just... a memory of love. 

He didn't expect Rosie to suddenly be crawling to him, and lifting his arm so she could press right up against his side to rest her head against him. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and she situated more against him. "I'm sorry you lost her." She told him, sniffling, and he paused a moment before curling his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. "I'm sorry too." He said, and she nodded. She told him that Benicio had curly hair like hers, and that Stella had eyes that looked like the sun, and how everyday she missed their playful laughter and holding them while they fell asleep. Daryl didn't think that speaking of her children and Beth on a day like this would've brought him any sense of comfort, and even though he still felt a weight on his shoulders, there was a sense of relief being able to speak of them and then be close to someone he loved...

He blinked a few times. His heart swelled a little. 

Daryl was in love with Rosie. 

\---

He'd tossed the idea back and forth. There had been moments he doubted his decision, but rage fueled the fire. He told himself he'd go, he'd do the deed, then return within in a day. There could always be complications, but for once he wasn't really considering that. There was only one thing on his mind: killing Dwight. 

He sat at his bike now, looking down at the keychain that read 'Dennis'. How did things go wrong so quickly? With the crossbow that had killed Denise clipped onto the back, he prepared to turn his bike on when a swift hand snatched the keys from his. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was. "Give 'em back." He grumbled, but she just glared at him. Her expression was wild and angry; hurt, even. But her eyes were still a bit swollen from the night before. He had held her until she cried the intense pain from her body, until it settled into a low rumble of a reminder. And he was ready to go, knowing she slept safely on the couch. Yet here she was, her hair messy from sleep and ready to murder him.

"Like hell I'm gonna let you run off on your own!" She barked, and he briefly looked around to make sure no one heard her. "Gimme the damn keys!" He snapped, and she folded her arms.

"I get it." She said. "I'm not gonna stop you, Daryl. But I'm not going to let you go alone. You tell me how going against a group of what could quite possibly be a huge number of people pans out?" She said, but he looked away. She was right. But he still was unmoving, tapping his fingers against the gas can. "I'm going with you." She said; her words were final, but he still didn't want to accept it. 

"Rosie-," he began to say, but she only shook her head. 

"I won't bother you, I won't stop you. I'll only help when asked." She explained, and turned- with keys still in hand, to change and grab what she needed. Daryl sighed. Reluctantly he adjusted the crossbow on the back of his seat to make room for her. 

\---

He parked the bike before the gate, and put down the kickstand. Rosie stayed on the bike, watching as Glenn, Maggie and Michonne walked briskly over to them from organizing their arsenal. They were planning to hide some in case the Saviors attacked.

Rosita watched as Daryl slid the inner gate open. "Where you going?" She asked, but he didn't even look at her. "Out." He simply responded. 

"No shit- you got specifics?" Abraham called from atop the gate post, his cigar already in hand. She hadn't even noticed him up there. But by the time the others were close to approaching, Daryl had already sat in his seat in front of her and turned the engine of the bike over; Rosie wrapped her arms around him as he wasted no time in racing away, winding around the cars in front of Alexandria. 

\---

She was true to her word. The whole time they'd ridden to the train tracks, and even when he hid his bike under the branches of a tree, to where they now walked slowly through a field he'd seen Dwight run through- she didn't speak. Daryl was careful to not step on the tracks set the day before, and he kept his crossbow close to his chest, ready to fire if needed. Rosie followed behind, her axe clipped to her hip and her fingertips touching the tops of the grass that they walked through. 

Every time he paused, he'd raise his weapon a little higher. It was her first time seeing the recovered crossbow. 

"Is that the one Dwight took?" She asked; she couldn't help her curiosity. 

"Yeah." His answer was short, and angry. No more questions. But then they heard footfalls, and they both looked to the opening of the trees. Rosie squinted. "Is that-?" She started to say, but Daryl had raised the crossbow and fired an arrow. It stabbed precariously close to Rosita's face on the tree beside her, and she angrily tore it from the bark. 

"Watch the hell out, asshole!" She exclaimed, stomping to him with Glenn and Michonne following. 

Daryl snatched the arrow from her hand. "Yeah I did, you shouldn't've come!" He yelled, already speeding into the trees. Rosie followed, shrugging at Michonne as they made eye contact. 

"You shouldn't have left!" Michonne told both of them, and both Daryl and Rosie turned to look at her. Whereas Rosie was ready to work something out, she knew without even looking at him that by the way he stormed over to her, he was ready to make a point. 

"When I was split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in that burnt out forest with them girls- put a gun to my head! Tied me up!" Rosie looked at him with concern; she'd never heard this before. "I even tried to help him." He added, turning to leave. 

"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn piped in now, walking after him. 

"Yeah I know it is! But I'm gonna do what I should've done before." He snapped, but Rosie grabbed his arm as he walked. "Daryl, wait..." she said softly. Maybe his judgement was too clouded. 

"What for her?" Glenn asked, and Rosie looked at him. "She's gone, man. You're doing this for you." He added, and Daryl stalled a moment. But then he grabbed Rosie's hand and pulled her towards him. "Man I don't give a shit." He told Glenn. 

"Daryl-," Glenn stepped in front of him. "We need to get back there to figure this out from home, our home. We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's gonna go wrong out here." Glenn pleaded, the two men staring at one another. 

Michonne stepped in then, grabbing his attention. "We'll square it. I will, I promise you. Just come back." She said, looking between him and her. 

Daryl looked at Rosie then. She tilted her head, her eyes locked on his, but if he decided against it, she'd still go with him. He knew this by the way she looked at him. It wasn't only that- it was the promise he made to Denise while he buried her. He couldn't let it go. "I can't." He said, looking at Michonne and Glenn before once again turning to leave. 

"Daryl!" Glenn yelled. Daryl's hand around Rosie's tightened as he pulled her away. "Man I can't!" He yelled back, leading her through the trees and picking back up on faint tracks left previously. The others watched them leave, and Daryl never looked back despite Rosie looking to Michonne a few times. She'd worded 'we'll be home soon' to her, but didn't know if she could decipher it. 

I'll follow you, gringo, She told herself, and him. Oh how she'd come to love this man, but she worried his anger was pushing him to make risky decisions. They were undoubtedly exposed out there in the woods, even with the cover of the trees. And to be in such a vulnerable state of only two… they wouldn’t stand the chance of an attack. And they found nothing. The tracks disappeared, and neither of them could find any signs of them ever being there. No discarded bullet shells or signs they had made camp, or tire marks where they might’ve left their cars. Either they were close enough to not need them, or they were just that good at covering their tracks. 

By nightfall they'd returned to the bike, and ridden to the small town where the apothecary was that Daryl had raided before. The two set up for the night inside, opting to sleep at the farthest end from the emaciated Walker and the toddler in the sink. There was still silence between them, apart from when Daryl had asked, "Will you still read?" 

Of course I will, she told him. And she did. 

And for two days they rode in circles around Alexandria, circling wider every time they came back to the starting point. Rosie learned how to siphon gas when the bike ran low, and at one point she was tempted to ask him to teach her to ride it, but didn't want to break his concentration. Even when they'd first met he wasn't this reserved. Watching him from the corner of her eye when they'd stopped to rest midday near a creek, she realized he'd retreated into a shell. One that allowed him to function, but only in the sense that kept them alive. No emotion shown, no words spoken. He stared off often, and she could only assume he was fighting emotions that threatened to cut him where he stood. 

Sometimes in those couple days she'd pat his shoulder, or even try to comfort him. But he remained the same way. He never shied away, but never returned the gesture. 

She understood, but she wanted her Daryl back. 

\---

More neighborhoods that were abandoned, but thankfully that had food in them. They hadn't planned to be out for more than a day when they originally left, so finding a still decently stocked pantry was a blessing. Rosie stuffed as many items she could into her backpack, as well as Daryl did beside her, picking between smaller options that would fit in the pouch that stored under the seat of his bike. She finished before him, and pulled her backpack on, tightening the straps. 

She looked around, curious as to what was in the other rooms. 

"Stay close." He said as she walked from the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she observed the living room. The walls were peeling and everything was covered in a layer of dust and mold. The ceiling was torn open, and the walls were breaking. But few photos still hung. 

A family once lived here. Rosie didn't rifle through the other rooms; she didn't want to unsettle the ghosts that might still wander these halls. But a bookshelf that was in pieces with the various books pulled her in. She'd read the same three books for years! She loved them, but a change of brain food would be nice. Not much looked appealing, and she grumbled. 

"Ready?" Daryl asked, walking up to her where she knelt by the books. "Yep." She answered, randomly grabbing one and following him out the door. Rosie locked and closed the door behind her. This was still a home that held ghosts of a life. 

\---

Still quiet. Still silent. But he sat close; their arms touching as they sat together in front of the fire. The cold set in deep, and she was glad she'd thought to grab a blanket from an abandoned cabin. They were gonna need it. 

They'd ate and now just sat in silence. Rosie hadn't read this night- her new book was a bit odd, maybe because she'd read the same ones so often. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks- not bad, just different. Next to her Daryl was tinkering with the same small object, and even so close she couldn’t catch a peak of it. Oh well, she thought. She kept reading, and upon skipping through a few pages, she read one line that rang in her heart. 

"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine." She said aloud softly. Daryl's hands stilled a moment, and she sighed. 

There was a lot of truth in that one sentence. 

Closing the book, Rosie scooted just that much closer to him, and rested her head against his shoulder. He continued, but didn't ask her to move. And her heart sang when he shimmied his back against the tree he sat against so he could more comfortably rest his head against hers and still work on what his hands hid. 

You're still here, she thought to herself. 

I'm still here, he thought to himself. 

\---

They'd raced by the compound that was originally thought to inhabit the Saviors, and Daryl only gave it a passing glance. He didn't want to relive that massacre.

But a full day of absolutely nothing only landed them in hiding the bike again and walking through dark trees, and had severely dampened his attitude. Everything and anything was setting him off. When he'd parked the bike amongst a bushel of dead branches, the kickstand had jammed and he nearly kicked it off in attempts to unjam it. Rosie only followed, biting her cheeks and almost pitying any Walker or animal that crossed his path. 

He didn't exactly have an idea of where he was going- he wasn't even following anything. Daryl was now mindlessly wandering, hopeful that he'd find something that showed people had been here. 

"Haven't found much." Rosie said then, trying diffuse his bad mood. He didn't answer, just kept walking. 

Now she was starting to feel irritation creep up on her. She'd been patient, and had let him be for these three days. But now she could see he was a chicken without a head; he needed to be stopped. 

"Maybe we should head home?" She asked softly, walking beside him now. Still, he moved on. 

"Maybe the others found him-,"  
"If you wanna go home find a car." He snapped, kicking aside a fallen branch. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not leaving without you." She said. You should know this by now, she thought angrily. 

"I'm not going back 'til he's dead." He told her, his voice low and menacing. He sped up then, trying to distance himself.. 

"Daryl it's been three days and we've found nothing." She argued, and suddenly he was turning and taking wide steps until he was close to her. 

"You can go- leave! It's easy for you! Just like when you left your kids!" He shouted. Instantly, they both felt the weight of his words. 

Her face twisted into rage, and her mouth opened many times to speak, but none came. How could he say that? How could he say that? The words she'd read the night before rang in her head: I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine. 

But apparently, it meant nothing to him. 

Before he saw the tears pooling in her eyes she turned on her heel and walked away, into the dark of the woods. Daryl stood there, shocked by his own actions, and feeling utterly alone. What did I just do? An unnerving fear that he'd just pushed away the woman he'd fallen so deeply in love with filled him, and he wanted to fix what he just broke... but how? 

With an angered grunt, he threw his crossbow to the ground, and watched as the trigger pulled and an arrow went flying into the dark. 

 

She wiped away the tears, but they still rolled down her cheeks freely. Every insult in Spanish and English alike were tossing in her head, but soft sobs still tumbled from her lungs. She hated him, but couldn't actually hate him. She wanted to gut him, but simultaneously wanted to crawl into his arms. She'd only wanted to help. And she found herself regretting ever telling him of her- 

"Hey there." A man’s voice called, and when she looked up, the beam of a flashlight shined in her eyes. She didn't even wait, didn't even want to bother. She started running- sprinting back towards Daryl. But she didn't know if she was going in the right direction; the trees at night all looked alike. But now she could hear multiple footfalls behind her, and the yelling of men with their guns chasing her. The cold burned her cheeks and her lungs, and she stumbled many times but was able to catch herself. 

But she could feel them gaining on her, and suddenly a hand was gripping her hair that whipped behind her and yanking her back. He didn't let go, and his iron grip pulled her backwards far enough until the other men caught up. 

"What are you doin' all alone here at night?" One asked, but could only see pieces of his face from the jumping light of the flashlight. Rosie struggled and tugged, but her scalp felt like fire when he yanked her around. "Take her back?" Another asked, and the last one came around to kneel in front of her. He tore the axe from her hip, and held it close to her chest. He looked young, maybe younger than her. But his face portrayed only a sick smile with wide eyes. It made her stomach roil. "Yeah, let's take her back, ask her a few questions. Maybe have a sleepover!" He joked, and the men laughed. 

"Fuck you!" She yelled, pulling a leg from underneath herself to kick him away. He only laughed after he'd stood back up, but abruptly stopped. 

She felt the hit before she heard it, and felt the throbbing in her cheek and eye before she knew what actually happened. She was on the ground now, and although her mind screamed to run, her body didn't listen. She moved slow. And by the time she had enough sense to try and stand, a booted foot was on her back pushing her down while her hands were pulled behind her. She still fought them, still screamed. 

Another foot came down and pushed her face into the ground. And then she saw Daryl, creeping behind a tree with his crossbow raised and fury in his narrow eyes. 

He couldn't fight them all- they had guns. 

"No!" She yelled at him, and he paused. "No!" Again she yelled. "Shut up, bitch!" One of the men yelled, hitting her between the shoulder blades with the butt of his gun. 

Rosie coughed and pinched her eyes closed, and then peaked one open. Daryl was kneeling now, and it seemed her vision was compromised. He looked darker, farther away. "No- no." She said quieter this time, but Daryl shook his head. He knew what she meant, and he fought to not charge them. 

"Stand up!" A man demanded, yanking her to her feet and hyperextending her shoulders. Rosie still fought them and writhed even though her head pounded and her back ached. And she looked back at Daryl who was coming out from behind his tree now. 

He watched them take her, the men laughing and speaking incoherently. He watched them take away his girl who still fought against them, and whose blood was on the ground where he stood. 

They took her. 

Away- away from him. 

\---

She could only guess that the reason they didn’t blindfold her before bringing her to their compound was because it was dark- enough that without the flashlights, she wouldn’t be able to make out anything. Or, they weren’t planning on letting her go. Either way, they marched her through the opening of the abandoned water treatment plant with laughter, cruelly yanking her side to side. From what she could see, they had sectioned off the majority of the plant so their focus could be in the front where the tall standing gates were, and inside their walls stood the old, tall water tower. Watch posts were set up, and so were small shacks inside made of plywood and anything else they could find. If it wasn’t for their harsh handling and the way anyone moving about looked at her sinisterly, she could’ve assumed this was a cute establishment. 

But even the few women smiled strangely at her! 

Rosie looked back as she heard the gates clang shut; she didn’t see Daryl in the dark. He hadn’t followed. It’s what she intended, but she still hurt. 

“Let’s go, you.” The man who had hit her said, yanking her towards a slatted metal door that lead underground. She stilled her feet, trying to stop from descending into the dark, but he just pushed her. Rosie stumbled down a few steps and spat insults at him, and after what felt like endless steps, she hit the bottom. After her eyes adjusted, she could see she was in some sort of water pressure room; it was filled with large pipes and old and dusted levers that probably once controlled this facility. The door shut at the top of the stairs, and she looked up at him where he was now walking down. 

Light barely filtered in through the door, and his features were hidden by the darkness. 

But Rosie stood tall, squaring her shoulders when he stopped in front of her. She wouldn’t give him the upper hand. And as he walked around her, she’d turn, never allowing her back to be to him. Now that he faced the light, she could see him better. He couldn’t’ve been older than twenty-five! That only made her angrier. 

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing wandering around out there so late?” he asked casually. Rosie didn’t answer. 

“Bit unusual, if you ask me.” he added, reaching behind himself. “Is it though?” she snapped, and he chuckled. 

“Based on how clean your clothes are,” he paused to pick up a lock of her hair. Rosie flinched back, her face tightening in anger. “And how nice your hair is, I’d say you have a home.” he guessed. She hoped he couldn’t see any alter in her eyes or demeanor when he said that. He pulled his hand around again, now holding her axe. She sighed. 

“I’m sure we can work out some kind of agreement if you lead me back to where ever the rest of you are?” he offered, and Rosie scoffed. “Fuck you.” she said softly. He only smiled. The end of her axe came in hard contact with her stomach, and even when she tried to not buckle over, she landed on her knees and coughed. “No need for that kind of language when I’ve been nice enough to not kill you.” he mumbled, walking around her, and deciding to swing his leg back then forward into her side. Now she toppled, landing on her side and wanting to hold her body, but her wrists tied behind her back only tugged at the ties and started to rub the skin raw. 

 

He was raging, mad with fury, and slowly leading a decent sized herd of Walkers down the road towards the direction they'd taken her in. His eyes never left the road before him, and he gradually sped up every time more would tag along. It wasn't hard finding them- he simply had to rev his engine loudly and they trickled out of the dark trees, snarling and hissing after him. 

He wasn't going to let her die. He wasn't going to lose her like he did Beth. He couldn't allow it, and didn't feel he could survive losing another he loved so dearly. Daryl thought them bold to settle so close to the road and out in the open, but it would make it easier to attract more Walkers and do what he planned. Additionally, he thought them to be fucking idiots that they parked their cars outside their compound. The plan formulated: use the car to tear a hole in their walls. Let the Walkers in. Find Rosie. Kill those men. Done. 

He wouldn’t stray from his plan again. That’s ultimately what had gotten Rosie taken. 

 

She couldn’t move. Even if she could, she didn’t want to. Her belly cramped painfully, and the kicking had effectively made her vomit, and that only aggravated the cuts on the inside of her cheeks from his fist making hard contact with her face a few times. But she didn’t tell him anything. She wouldn’t. But now he was a bit winded, granting her the opportunity to catch her breath. Her curls were plastered against her bloody and sweaty face, and she found she had to forcefully blow blood from her nose to be able to breathe. More coughing, and she heard the man laugh. 

“You’re a tough mother, you know that?” he asked, standing straight and walking over to where she laid. Rosie rolled onto her back as much as she could, and looked up at him with red, angry eyes. “You could’ve had a chance to go home.” he told her, squatting next to her and dangling the blade of her axe precariously close to her cheek. “You made the decision to stay down here.” he finished, his voice deepening a bit. And then he was gripping her hair and dragging her a ways so she rolled onto her stomach. The last she saw of him was when he stood over her, and she panicked when she felt him grab her arms. But then the ties around her wrists were gone, and her shoulders were aching as her arms fell to her sides. Rosie flipped quickly, pushing away from him as he walked up the stairs. He didn’t even look back at her as he left, locking the door behind himself. 

She let herself take in the deep breaths she’d needed to, and curled her arms around her stomach where the pain was most intense. She couldn’t even pull her knees up. 

She tried to stop them, but the dry sobs that shook her shoulders were powerful. Lowering her face and letting her curls fan around her hid her emotions from anyone who might want to peer in from above. And she wondered, how could this happen? 

 

The bike was masked haphazardly amongst the trees, and he’d only have a couple minutes until they were close enough to see him. There was one thing he appreciated about this group that had Rosie inside: they were stupid. Their cars were parked outside of the walls, unlocked. It made his job a little easier. He popped open the gas cover and stuffed his bandana in, lighting it with his zippo. It wouldn’t blow a hole, but it would attract the herd. He’d just ran around the edge of the wall when the tank blew, and a loud explosion startled anything close by. Immediately the people inside panicked, and rushed to see what had happened, and that’s when the Walkers emerged. A slow moving force that sufficiently scared the people inside. 

Even when they shot out at them, it didn’t do much. There was even more behind the ones that fell, and soon enough they were at the gates, already pushing and weakening the chains. Daryl avoided them, but made quick work of wrapping his crossbow across his back and climbing the chain linked fence. Inhabitants inside were running and scrambling to handle the situation, and it was enough distraction to allow him over the top and onto the rickety walk of of their watch out. 

Daryl crouched as he swiftly walked along it until he made it to the small post, and thankfully there was a gun with a small pile of knives and even a few hand grenades. He picked one up and studied its weight. He could carry two; they were like little boulders. Daryl eyed them, and then he again observed the tall water tower that sat at the center of this place. 

 

The second explosion rumbling through the ground is what drove her to slowly move up the stairs to look out the barred door, even though her body protested. It was chaos; people running in separate directions and looked to be scrambling to formulate a plan against the Walkers that were close to breaching their fencing. She furrowed her brows- what happened? But her thoughts were interrupted by the tall water tower crashing to the ground before her, crushing some people and cracking open. The water that had been held inside spilled out, and rushed through the gaps in the door and across her feet. Rosie exclaimed, watching as it cascaded down the stairs and began to slowly fill the room at the bottom. She looked back outside; Walkers began to filter in slowly, following the remaining people who ran for their lives. 

 

Daryl watched the calamity he’d caused, but felt little joy. He still had to find Rosie who was hidden somewhere amongst it all. He was stuffing the last grenade in his pocket when a man walking hastily across the quad caught his attention, or more importantly, Rosie’s axe he had in hand. 

 

Rosie moved backwards down the stairs when she saw him walking towards her, rage in his eyes and posture. He unlocked the door and threw it open in an animal-like way, and lunged towards her. Rosie flinched, and it gave him chance to grab a fistfull of her hair and painfully pulled her out of the room and into the opening. She tripped as she struggled, but he still dragged her through the water around them. He stopped abruptly, and used his other hand to also grab her hair and shake her. “Who was with you!” he yelled at her, but Rosie didn’t know how to answer him. Even if she lied, he probably wouldn’t believe her. 

“Answer me!” he screamed, hitting her again. “Fuck you!” she yelled back, trying to free herself. But then his hands were being ripped from her hair, and she was falling back before she could see what had happened. Rosie rolled, but came face to face with a Walker that was reaching for her. Quickly she turned and used her feet to kick him back enough that she could stand, but she still had no weapon. He had her axe! Rosie turned to get it, but what was before her eyes was shocking. 

Daryl had forcefully pulled him away from her, and had him pinned on the ground where he could easily clobber him repeatedly against the face and temple. He didn’t let up, and the ferocity of his hits was startling. “Daryl?” she asked softly, but he didn’t stop. Snarling behind her demanded her attention and she turned to watch as Walkers made their way towards them. 

“Rosie.” Daryl said, gently grabbing her arm and making her jump. She looked at him, the rage that was still painted over his face. She didn’t know why, but having him there again made her feel weak, protected- she had to fight to stay standing when she leaned against him, her face resting against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and handed her her axe back. Rosie looked down at the man who’d dealt her the beating; he was still alive. 

She stood by him, and stared down at the bastard. 

He was still awake, and moving a bit as he held his head. But then he looked up at her, and without words reached towards her. She kicked his hand away, and looked to the Walkers that had set their eyes on them. Rosie backed up as they gathered around him, their snapping jaws and gouging fingers taking chunks from him. His screams filled the air as he tried to fight them off, but it was futile. Even if he escaped, he’d join them soon enough. “Let’s go.” Daryl said, pulling her arm. 

She stumbled a bit; her fatigue and the ache over her body was starting to take effect. She grabbed his arm for balance, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her waist, and lead her towards an opening in the fence he’d made. 

The walk back to his bike was easy, luckily enough. 

Rosie wouldn’t have the energy to help in assisting if part of the herd moved around to them. Daryl knew this. By the way she walked slowly beside him and leaned on him, she’d been messed up. It still made him angry, and would’ve continued his beatings against that man if it hadn’t been for the Walkers. But what mattered was right beside him. The woman who held onto him and was alive. He’d done what he couldn’t do for Beth, and he was going to make sure it didn’t happen again. 

He didn’t let her go until they were at the bike again, and he sat her by a tree carefully. Rosie still grinned at him, and held her stomach as he went about pulling the bike from under the bushel. 

And when he sat in front of her on the bike, she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him firmly and rest her head against his back. This is definitely my spot, she thought to herself. 

“Ready?” he asked, patting her knee. She nodded, and they were off just as a few Walkers had caught onto the low rumble of his bike. Every foot put behind them and her captors was another ounce of fear lifted off their minds, and when Daryl moved his hand to hold hers at his waist, the pain in her head wasn’t so bad. But shortly after speeding down the dark highway, a deep chill set into her bones as the wind soaked into her wet clothing. Daryl could feel her shivering, and knew soon enough he’d need to stop so she didn’t keel over from the cold. 

Just as he started tossing around the idea of setting camp somewhere in the pines, a rest stop came into view, so he slowed and turned into it. He sat for a little, looking over the area and waiting for any Walkers to come wandering from the dark. 

But everything was still. Rosie reluctantly unwound her arms from him, and she waited as he cleared one of the main buildings that was probably once a small convenient store. 

He came back to her then, and helped walk her to the building with broken windows that were poorly boarded up. Once inside she looked all around as he went about parking his bike somewhere in back, then working on barricading the doors. Her shoulders still shook a bit as she wandered around, looking at what was left of the dilapidated business. Mostly empty food containers and boxes, but some camping supplies left scattered on broken shelves and on the floor. 

“All set.” Daryl said, walking up behind her. Rosie turned and looked at him, and noticed him inspecting her face. 

“Do I look that bad?” she asked, her voice weak and raspier than normal. 

He shrugged, moving his hands to gently move her hair from her face and grab her jaw so he could move her head side to side. There was swollen gashes in her cheeks and lip, and her left left eye was red from burst blood vessels. He sighed. 

“Gimmee the backpack.” he said, and she shrugged it off. 

They sat on the ground cross legged and facing each other as he carefully, and as gently as he could, cleaned the cuts on her face and wipe the blood from her skin. There wasn’t much he could do for the ache in her gut, but he didn’t even ask her to take his jacket when she took hers off to dry. It was heavy on her shoulders, but helped rid the cold in her limbs. Neither of them said anything for some time. Rosie didn’t want to tell him that even though she was grateful to be with him again, she still had some animosity lingering around her for his choice of cruel words during their argument before she was taken. 

And Daryl didn’t know how to go about even beginning an apology. This was undoubtedly his fault. Would she even forgive him if he asked for it? 

“We’ll head home in the mornin'.” he said, leaning back against a shelf. Rosie pulled the edges of his jacket around her, but shook her head. “No, we should keep going.” she said softly, and coughed a bit; that damn cold still lingered in her lungs. A chuckle escaped her lips when he looked at her with an absolutely dumbfounded expression; her stomach cramped a bit. 

“What- how? You wanted to go back before.” he asked, and she nodded. 

“I know. But we’ve never been this far out before. Might as well circle back around and mark it down, yeah? Might be something worth looking at out there.” she explained, moving beside him and sitting close. She was still a bit chilly. “You’re all messed up though.” he argued, moving his elbow out a little so she could wind her arm around it. 

“I’ll be fine.” she told him, resting her head against him. Her breath warmed her hands where they were cupped around her sore face inside his jacket. 

A drawn silence, and she began to feel fatigue tug on her eyes. 

“You’re an asshole.” she said sleepily. Daryl nodded. “I know.” was the last thing she heard him say before she fell asleep. 

\---

“Anything?” she asked, standing by the bike. He’d spotted the cluster of cars at the edge of the trees and pulled over- gas was running low. “Yeah, just enough.” he said, working to siphon the gas. Rosie walked around the car's side closest to the road and watched for anything, her hatchet at her hip. Her body seemed to ache a little more when she woke up that morning, so she leaned against the bumper and waited for Daryl to finish. Between the four cars, he was able to fill his tank and store some in an old bottle. Sitting in the sun like that felt good. And the quiet around them soothed the dull throb in her head. Maybe she had a brain hemorrhage from all those hits. Either way, she woke up. She was still alive. Rosie exhaled and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze across her cheeks and the sun warming her clothing. She could stay like this a long while if she were given the opportunity. 

“All set.” he said, walking over to her. Her eyes opened and she nodded and stood, holding her stomach. They walked to the bike, but before getting on, Daryl noticed the vacant look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and she looked up at him. The angry emotions had gone, and when he asked for it, she’d forgive him. But there was something she felt she had to say. 

“I didn’t thank you for coming back.” she started, her hand resting against the seat of the bike. 

“When I saw you coming up that night when they had me… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. But you came back for me.” she continued, moving to push his bangs from his face. “You don’t have to thank me.” he said, his rough voice calm. “I’d never leave ya for dead.” he confessed, and she smiled before leaning her head forward to rest on his chest. Daryl was the one to wrap his arms around her shoulders, his head cheek resting against her head. More warmth in her skin. This is my new spot, she thought with a small smirk. “Let’s get going.” she said unenthusiastically, patting his sides. Rosie swung her leg over the seat slowly after he did, and she didn’t hesitate to rest her head against his back anymore. 

It was a peaceful ride. He didn’t race down the road, or move too slow. And his hand moved from the handlebar to rest on her knee after some time. Rosie grinned. 

\---

It was odd to find a small apartment complex in a cul de sac, but that many rooms in one area could produce results. With his crossbow in hand and pointed, he moved towards the front gate surrounding it, but stopped when he heard steps behind him. He turned to face Rosie who was cocking an eyebrow at him. “What?” she asked, confused. 

“Shouldn’t you wait at the bike?” he asked, gesturing towards her hand that was still on her stomach. “And what happens when Walkers come and I can’t defend my injured and weak self?” she asked sarcastically, but he only turned back around. Rosie chuckled, pulling her hatchet from her hip. She wasn’t completely useless.

They moved slowly through each unit, and found only corpses and already raided shelves and cupboards. Someone had already gotten here before them. But she still insisted they check the upper level and moved to the stairs without him. 

“Even if I said no, you’d still go.” he mumbled, and she patted his shoulder. 

“That’s right, gringo.” she teased. 

“Might as well just say white boy…” he added, looking through the cracked door of the first unit. 

“Nah, I like gringo.” she told him, following into the living room. Also riffled through. “What a surprise.” Daryl said, and she rolled her eyes as she made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom. Medicines and supplies were always her main priority-

And then she saw her reflection in the mirror. 

The gashes were swollen, and bruised, and her eye looked awful. Blood red and a bit startling the way the golden color of her iris popped like that. Rosie sighed, and with hesitation, lifted her jackets and shirts to observe her bruised stomach and ribs. No wonder it hurt to do anything. At least the wound at her side had healed before all of this; she couldn’t imagine how badly that would’ve ripped if it were still open. She felt silly doing it, but she pulled her snarled hair into a bun to try and improve how she felt about her image, but it didn’t work. She looked and felt crappy no matter what she did. 

“It’s not that bad.” Daryl said suddenly, startling her a bit. 

She looked at him and shrugged. “You can say I look like shit- I know I do.” she told him, blinking back the extra moisture in her eyes. Daryl looped the crossbow around his shoulder and stepped into the bathroom, then dug in his pockets and pulled out something small enough to fit in his hand. Rosie was handed a small, oval material that had small carvings all over it, and upon turning it in her fingers revealed her name on one side, and a rose on the other. “Did you find this?” she asked, looking closer at it and at the intricate designs covering it. 

“I carved it.” he said, crossing his arms with his hands hidden at his sides. 

Rosie looked up at him, surprise in her eyes and smile spreading across her face. “Is this what you’ve been hiding?” she asked, and he nodded.

“What’s it made out of?” She ran her thumb over the smooth surface. “I dunno, actually.” he confessed, and she giggled. “And y'don’t look like shit.” he added, and she looked up at him, holding it in her hands against her chest. 

“I love it.” she said softly, her beaming smile lifting his spirits. 

And then he was stuck there, unable to pull his eyes from her, or stop looking at the way she lit up with the smallest of gesture. He loved her so much, and when she was taken he wanted to tell her so desperately. Sometimes his voice shook when he felt close to doing it. This time was different; he couldn’t hold it in anymore. But her smile slowly faded the longer he looked at her, but not from any uneasiness. Rosie could see the emotions running rampant in his narrow eyes, and she started to feel the passion well up in her chest. She could feel it- the anticipation of what he was readying to do, but the wait was killing her. Do it, Daryl, please, she hollered in her head.

It all felt right in his body, and his mind was screaming for his body to move, but fear of rejection held him back. But he needed to do this. 

Daryl stepped closer to her after placing his crossbow on the ground, and his hands rested on either side of her jaw, his fingertips touching her hair. Rosie’s eyes fluttered, and she nodded, barely enough to notice and stuffed the pendant into her pocket. 

And he kissed her. 

Finally, after what felt like far too much time, he kissed her full on the mouth and she exhaled softly when he pulled apart just enough to readjust his lips against hers, and kiss her again, and groaned softly himself when she grabbed his face and didn’t let him go anywhere. He already knew that kissing her was going to be his new addiction, but nothing could even come close to standing up to this feeling. No Vicodin, no Oxy could make him feel higher than this. Especially when he backed her up so she pressed against the edge of the sink, and her response was to tug on his vest so he pressed right up against her with his hands flat behind her on the countertop. 

He could feel the cut on her lip every time she kissed him, but she didn’t let on to any discomfort. They were hot, like a fever, and intoxicating. 

Rosie kissed away from his lips and along his cheek, her fingers running down his arms. Her hands were heavier, and her actions a bit clumsy as they dragged back up along to his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Steady rolls of goosebumps rose on his arms and neck where she touched, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open against her lovely assault. Deliberately she took her time to kiss back along his jaw until he could capture her lips in another smooch, but his hands on her back didn’t let her move away again. As the seconds ticked by, his head felt lighter, and again and again he found himself thinking, maybe she needs a break, but then Rosie’s lips would part and her tongue would tease his, further pulling him from making any decisions that didn’t involve kissing her until the end of time. 

To his reluctance though, they pulled apart, her hands now resting on his neck. With eyes still closed, and lips swollen with kisses, she lingered close to him, and smiled against his mouth when he pecked her on the lips a few times. Her hands smoothed across his cheeks and pushed his hair away from his face, and he leaned against her hand. Rosie smiled. He kissed her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face against her neck. Rosie held onto him tightly. Her heart felt full- complete. The void that had been blasted through her closed some, just enough to carry her past but also make room for Daryl. 

This is my spot, he thought to himself, swaying a little. 

When they left, they walked close, and when they rode, he left his hand on her knee. While she observed the passing world around them, Daryl grinned to himself without her seeing. Together, and silently with hushed words and smiles exchanged they went to make one last circle around Alexandria; the farthest they’d ever gone before. 

Not much changed in the way they went about their business; they cleared old buildings and homes, and still chatted throughout their day. But now there was a closeness when they walked together; their shoulders would touch and their hands would brush against one another, and on one brief walk back to the bike, she curled her pinky around his and he didn’t pull away. During a chilly afternoon, they had pulled over to rest by a field and eat lunch when Daryl pulled her by the hips against himself and kissed her long and hard, interrupting her when she told him about a knife she’d found. He’d developed a habit of launching them into quick liplocks like that, and it’d leave her with heavy eyes and rosy cheeks, and always unwilling to untangle her hands from his hair or her arms from around his neck. But afterwards they both sat in the long grass, and Rosie used the water bottle to hide her smile and lean against him as he talked nonsense around a mouthful of food. He didn’t know why those urges overcame him, but it was the least he could do to stop himself from taking her there on the highway. 

And at night, she continued to read, but now always had a spot pressed against his side. If they were lucky enough they could find an abandoned car to sleep in together to escape the cold, and also cozy up for the night. 

Between the random kisses and cuddling and bumping arms, by the time they made it back to Alexandria they were walking side-by-side and exchanging hushed words and laughs, and a not so common smile was splayed across Daryl’s face. 

Rick came to meet the two on the street once he’d heard his bike coming down the road, but he didn’t look too thrilled to be talking to them. When they saw him, their smiles faded. Their bubble had burst; back to the real world. 

\---

Rosie looked at him through the window of the porch. He hadn’t moved from the top step since she had taken a shower and changed, and now that she was pulling on her boots, she felt hesitant about leaving him like that to resume night duty. With her shotgun pulled from the counter and hanging in her hand, she opened the door and walked to him. He was still staring off ahead of him, his arms leaning on the tops of his knees. Her hand smoothed the back of his hair, but he didn’t move any. 

“I’m sorry.” she said, sitting beside him. He shook his head, looking down. 

“I shouln’t’ve left. I could’ve stopped her.” he said quietly, digging in his pocket for a cigarette. 

“She left of her own accord- I don’t think anyone could have stopped her.” Rosie responded, watching as he angrily searched for his lighter in his pockets with the smoke already between his lips. Her hand reached into the inner pocket of his vest, and flipped back the zippo for him. He looked at her, and she grinned. “Maybe she just needs time to come home on her own.” she offered, closing the lighter and handing it to him. With the cigarette lit he took long drags, letting the smoke filter from his nostrils. Unexpectedly, Rosie’s hands grabbed his face and made him look at her. Her eyes searched his; she could see the guilt. 

“Please don’t blame yourself.” she said, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones. Daryl looked all over her face; it seemed looking at the still healing cuts on her made him only feel worse. He ran a finger next to her red eye, and gently bumped her chin with his fist. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him once, then again on his forehead before standing to walk to her post. 

Daryl watched her leave, her gun swinging in her hand as she made her way down the street and eventually meeting up with Maggie who was on her way to collect eggs from Pollo Bowl. Upon their arrival, Rick had told them first about Carol’s sudden disappearance and how Morgan had gone to find her, but the trail had gone cold. Daryl and Rosie told them they hadn’t come across any signs of her on their trip, but how Rosie had been temporarily taken hostage by the group. The cuts and bruises were still clear as day on her face, but they didn’t bother her much anymore. Rick made it clear than that no one was to leave Alexandria unless absolutely necessary. The Saviors were sure to make a move any day, and they needed their strongest at home. 

Daryl had wanted to leave to find his dear friend, but a week was quite the head start, and if no one else had found anything, he was sure to come up with the same results. 

So now he sulked, and wondered why she left, and worried if she was alive or already walking with the dead. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. He’d known she was conflicted in the days since her and Maggie were brought home from also being captured, but not wanting to pry, he didn’t ask much. He figured she’d open up when she was ready. But now, he was full of regret. With a sigh he stood and walked out to the sidewalk and looked around; Rosie wasn’t in sight anymore. He bit his lips where he could still feel her kisses lingering. 

Maybe she’ll come home when she’s ready, he told himself, walking back up to the house. 

 

But nothing he did distracted him from his thoughts. Restlessly he moved around, and fidgeted, and when working on his bike didn’t do anything and sleep evaded him when night fell, he closed the door behind him and walked down the road. It was freezing at night now, enough to see his breath before him and freeze over the grass at night, and he’d remember seeing Rosie leave for work with only a pullover. So with her leather jacket in his hand, he scoped her out along the wall until he finally found her at the farthest end, leaning over the walls edge. 

“Y'okay?” he asked after he’d climbed the ladder and walked to her. She jumped a bit and looked at him, a smile greeting him. 

“Hey, there.” she said, and before he said anything else, he put her jacket around her shoulders. Rosie chuckled. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold.” she said quietly, pushing her arms into the jacket. Daryl leaned over the edge where she had been, and discovered the four walkers eating an unidentifiable animal by the wall she had been watching. He scoffed. 

“It was a dog.” she said, leaning next to him. He watched as they snarled and tore into it, and felt tempted to shoot his arrows down at them, but decided against it and turned to lean back against the railing. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, looking at him. Daryl shook his head and looked around; Rick and Michonne were also on watch tonight, as well as Maggie at the gate. Extra numbers at night now. Rosie watched him. Just when she had started to pull him from his funk, he was thrown into another. She felt for him, and wished she could help, but from past experience, she knew better now to let it run its course. She shifted, and rested her chin on his shoulder with her front against his side. Still, she couldn’t just stand there and watch him fall apart.

“Come back to me.” she said softly, and he looked at her. Her fiery eyes still had the same effect on him since the beginning. 

“I’m here.” he replied. Her hand moved the bangs from his eyes. “How can I help, gringo?” she asked, resting her hand on his chest. “You help.” he told her. It was true. He had originally come to her this night because he felt he needed her company. Just being by her soothed his temperament. With a grin, and a pat on his chest, he leaned into her and kissed her. He followed her lips when she pulled back, and before he knew it his hands were at the back of her neck and his body pressing her back against the railing. She moaned then, and he felt the breath kicked from his body when she arched against him and pull him by the hips tighter against her body. His mind was a million miles away from his earlier grievances, and only on Rosie, and her lips, and touch, and the soft exhales she made when his hands ran up and down her back. 

“Told you.” Rick said, walking by Michonne as she stood watching the couple across the wall engage in a heated kiss. She rolled her eyes and turned away, a bit shocked at their sudden shift in actions. 

Loud snarls and banging on the wall below them interrupted their moment, and with arms still around her, he looked around her shoulder and down at the Walkers that were starting to pile up. Rosie looked back, and sighed loudly. 

“Rude!” she yelled down, and Daryl looked at her. “See ya later then?” he asked, and she nodded, groaning when he unwrapped himself from her waist and smacked his hands along the metal wall to draw the Walkers away from piling up. Most of them followed, but some few still lingered below her and reached for her. Rosie let her arm hang down and sway, and her mind wandered. What she’d give to be in the same bed as Daryl right now, with her legs wrapped around-

She blinked a few times and felt her cheeks warm up. “Dirty, dirty, dirty.” she whispered, shaking her head. 

Everyday got a little easier for him after the initial shock of Carol leaving. He still caught himself wandering around the front gate in hopes she’d come strolling back in, but with the help of day-to-day work and chores, his mind was kept well occupied so he didn’t sit and dwell on it. Never finding Dwight weighed in sometimes, but that settled into a dull roar- something that could be taken care of at a later time. And then, there was Rosie to keep him distracted from everything. Not the best, considering everyone was on alert and waiting for an attack, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked sneaking behind houses during the day to kiss her, or meeting her at the end of a day to walk her home. A few times she’d sneak her hand into his, and sometimes he’d feel enough of a boost of confidence to hang an arm around her shoulders. People noticed, and talked, but he learned to let it roll off his back. He’d felt tempted to pound Spencer’s skull into the pavement when he’d made an advancement at Rosie, but she thought it better to let Rosita know who had recently been in relations with him. 

Behind closed doors though, there was no hesitation in his actions. Whether she’d be cooking, or cleaning, or even walking by- he’d catch her and let his actions speak for themselves. But soon enough, kissing wasn’t enough for them. Her hands first wandered underneath the hem of his shirt when she was the one to push him up against a wall, and anytime after that, she made it a point to map out his stomach, then chest, and eventually the muscles along his lower back. Daryl was more fond of using his mouth, and his favorite was trailing open mouthed kisses along her collarbones. But even when his hands massaged her thighs and rounded her bottom, it just wasn’t cutting it.. 

“Daryl-,” she tried to say past his mouth, but he grumbled and kissed her more fervently. “I have to-,” a kiss, “I have to go to rounds.” she said breathlessly, holding his head when his mouth kissed across her chest and his hands gripped her hips to hold her against his lap she straddled. “Then go.” he said against her skin, but her back arched and she exhaled loudly when his rough hands slipped under her shirt and followed the curve of her back. “Asshole…” she gasped, pulling his face to hers once more and then prying his arms from around her. His hands slapped down against his legs, and he watched her fix her clothing and pull back her messy hair into a bun. 

“You can still tell.” he told her, folding a leg up to hide the excitement in his jeans. She shrugged, pulling her jeans up and shooting him a sideways glare. He shrugged back. Her hand dragged across his arm when she walked away, and she grabbed her gun before leaving. He waited until he heard the door close to adjust himself, and grunted in relief when he wasn’t pressed uncomfortably against the front of his jeans. She’d notice, eventually. 

Rosie was thankful that the air was cold when she left, and hoped it helped hide the flush on her cheeks she felt. But the stirring in her lower stomach was still there, and still demanded to be noticed. Though anytime she crawled against him and his hands gripped her backside, and she grinded, and she felt exactly what he tried to hide in his pants. It was eliciting a feeling in her body she hadn’t felt in years. It had been so long- she didn’t know how much longer she could go without acting on it. With her jacket pulled tighter around her, she tried to focus on the cold, and tried not to run back to the house.

\---

“There’s nothing here- we’ve been to that strip mall before.” Rosie explained, pointing to the spot on the map that Rick was now crossing off. Daryl recalled the day she helped take back his bike at that mall; a good memory, all in all. “That leaves these two.” he said, pointing to two circled spots that were diagonally opposite to one another. 

“We can hit the farthest one first 'n check the other on the way back.” Daryl said, leaning over Rosie who sat at the table. “That’s fine. Whatever is easiest, but remember- this is just to scout. You find something, you come back and we’ll bring it home with a group. We don’t need you two out there alone and longer than necessary.” Rick told them, and Rosie nodded.

“Y'ready?” Daryl asked, stepping back as Rosie stood. “I just need to grab a couple things.” she said, moving up the stairs to grab her bag. Daryl folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket before layering on another long sleeve, a jacket and his vest. 

“Are you sure she’s okay to go back out?” Rick asked, looking at his friend. Daryl eyed him. 

“She still looks a little rough around the edges.” he said quietly. 

“Even if I tried t'stop her, it wouldn’t work.” Daryl told him, and Rick chuckled. “Sounds like you.” Rick replied, and Daryl shrugged. He couldn’t deny that. Rosie came bounding down then with her hatchet and side bag, layered in a few shirts and jackets and strolled over to the men. “Not taking much?” Daryl asked, tugging on the strap to her messenger bag. “Just basics.” she said, and Daryl looked at the healing cuts on her face and the redness of her eyes he wasn’t sure would ever go away. 

“Are you sure-,” he tried to ask, but she shook her head and turned. “We’ll be back soon!” she said cheerfully, and dragged Daryl by the arm. “I told you.” he mumbled to Rick. 

\---

Even sitting atop the bike some ways down the hill from the store, they could tell there was nothing left. The walls had literally been torn down and the building remaining was scorched. There was definitely no food in there. “Onto the next?” she asked from behind him, and without a word he turned the bike and cut off the road onto the side street that would lead them to the next store on their way home. Food at Alexandria wasn’t low, but they wanted to stock up since these runs were now cut down to only absolutely necessary. No one wanted to be caught out in the open. But Daryl and Rosie still braved it, and the bike was easier to hide and maneuver in case they were discovered. She didn’t mind being outside of the walls either. With her head hung back as the wind rushed around them, she enjoyed these brief moments of freedom until they were once again locked away and waiting for something- anything to happen. 

\---

“Wow.” Rosie said, looking at the nearly untouched market they’d found next to the one they originally traveled to which had ended up being empty. They’d stormed in, weapons raised and ready to fight based on the unlocked doors and cleaned windows, but had only found what Daryl had compared to the truck he and Rick came upon once.

“What if someone is storing it here?” she asked, looking around for any sign that someone had been around recently. “The door was unlocked.” Daryl said, crossing his arms. 

“To make it unobvious.” she mumbled, looking at the ground. “Look- prints.” she said, pointing to the pairs that circled around the room and around the many shelves and crates filled with food. Daryl followed them, and looked outside to see if anyone was nearby. “Good catch.” he said, knocking his knuckles against her chin gently. Rosie grinned. 

“We should get back. Hopefully when we come again the foods still here.” he said, holding the door open for her when she walked out. Rosie observed the area, her hand gripping her axe and worried that someone was watching them. Daryl closed the doors silently and walked around her to the other side of the motorcycle. “Too bad we can’t fit any on the bike.” she said. “We’ll be back soon.” he said, throwing his leg over after clipping the crossbow to the back. As he turned the engine over she sat behind him and finished tying her hair up, and grabbed his waist as he turned and sped down the road. 

\---

Her cheek was rested against his back lazily, her arms slack around his waist. They’d been riding in a straight line for what felt like hours now. A small crowd emerging from the tall trees had forced them to take a detour around the original route home, and it was already later in the afternoon now that they were back on track again. Rosie’s stomach grumbled, and she groaned. The cold air was biting at her cheeks, but she still leaned up and rested her chin on his shoulder close to his ear.

“I’m hungry!” she yelled past the roar of the bike and the wind racing passed them, and he leaned back a little. “Me too!” he replied. 

“Wanna stop to eat?” she asked. 

“Yeah, burger sounds nice.” he said, and she laughed. 

But then the front of the bike was suddenly wobbling, and a loud popping noise filled their ears. Before they knew it, they were being thrown sideways as the bike suddenly turned out of Daryl’s control, and made hard contact with the asphalt before they rolled and slid many feet, then stopping near the bike that had stopped skidding on it’s side. 

Rosie groaned. On her stomach now, she looked up at Daryl who was on his back and slowly rolling onto his side to face her. “Rosie?” he said, and she moved slowly, and carefully onto her hands and knees. She was sore, but not in serious pain. But when she rotated her arm, her shoulder caught and burned, causing her to hiss and hold it. 

“What happened?” she asked as he moved to her, pulling her up. 

“Blew a tire.” he grumbled, turning to the bike. It still rumbled, but the front tire was shredded and dented, some of the spokes broken. “Your back.” she said, noticing the ripped clothing along his shoulder blade and the red that was starting to bleed through. “It’s fine.” he said, walking from her hands that started to feel for the injury. 

“Have to walk the damn thing home now.” he spat, kicking the blown tire. 

“Oh joy.” she said, trying to work the kink from her arm but also noting the blood on her hand when she pulled it away. “Always my favorite jacket.” she said under her breath. Rosie adjusted the strap of her bag to her other shoulder as Daryl pushed the bike up, and noted the darkening skies. “Think we’ll get home before it gets dark?” she asked, and he shook his head. Rosie followed him down the road as he began to push it, and kept a close eye on the pines around them in case someone came leaping out at them now that they were moving slow. Her hands scooped her hatchet from the ground when she came up to it; they were lucky to have not collided with either of their weapons when they rolled. 

\---

"That good enough?” she asked, placing another branch between his covered bike and the bushes to make it look like one continuous piece of shrubbery. “Should be. I's'too dark to notice if you’re driving.” he said, fixing a few loose pieces of leaves. Rosie turned and looked at the big-rig that had some time ago crashed and landed at the edge of the trees, wiping the sap that coated her hands on her jeans. It made her nervous choosing a spot so close to the open, but they needed to stay inside of something or else they could succumb to the cold. Without a word, she gripped the handle, and waited until his crossbow was aimed, to whip it open. Nothing came out. Daryl pushed her in first, and gave the trees around them a once over before following. Inside, they double checked all the corners and crevices, and locked anything that could be. They sat in seats across one another, looking out the clouded windshield and Rosie keeping her flashlight low. When she turned away, Daryl spotted the tear in her clothing at her shoulder and the blood that had started to come through. “C’mere.” he said, turning her shoulders so he could see. 

He helped her from her jackets and pulled her old paramedic uniform down her arm enough to see the wound she’d acquired. She hissed and gripped the seat when he wiped the gravel and dirt from the raw skin. “Is it bad?” she asked through clenched teeth. 

“Nah. Your shoulder looks like hamburger meat, but ain’t too bad.” he said, finally tapeing on a bandage. “There’s your burger.” she said, and he chuckled as he helped pull her layers back on. 

“No more cuts?” he asked, moving her face to see if she’d sustained anymore. Her cheek was a little scraped, but nothing serious.

“I’m just a little sore. Lemmee see that one on your back.” she instructed, reaching to move his clothing. “It’s okay.” he said, pushing her hands down. 

“Daryl.” she said sternly, glaring at him. He hesitated. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.” she said, turning him away from her and pulling his vest and jackets off. Rosie positioned her light on her shoulder as he slid his shirt off, and then she froze. The scars were long, and looked to had never healed correctly from whatever caused them. Rosie didn’t ask right away, and went to cleaning the road rash he had on his shoulder blade, but her eyes jumped back and forth between them. What could have caused those? Daryl didn’t make a noise the entire time she cleaned his injury; he waited for her to ask about the scars. It was something he hid from everyone, and disliked talking about. 

“All done.” she said softly, placing the last of the bandaging and cleaning supplies back in her bag. He hurried to pull his clothing back on. “Daryl?” she said, and he shook his head. 

“What?” she asked. 

“I know what you’re gonna ask.” he mumbled, buttoning up his jacket and pulling his vest on. She bit her cheek. “From before?” she asked carefully. He didn’t answer. He looked straight ahead, crossing his arms. “Those aren’t recent.” she said, pulling her knees up and resting her arms on them. He still didn’t say anything, but could feel annoyance building up. He thought that she would know by now that if he didn’t respond, it meant he didn’t want to talk at all. 

“They’re nothin'.” he finally said, but his voice was deep, and coated in bitterness. “Those aren’t nothing-,” she started to say. 

“I said they’re nothin', now drop it.” he snapped, and she looked at him angrily. “Do you have to say it like that?” she snapped back. 

“Do you have'ta be so nosey?” he asked, glaring back at her. Rosie narrowed her eyes, and turned away from him. He did so too, and both of them looked out their windows. Sleep evaded both of them that night as anger took its place. She didn’t even try to break the silence this time. She wanted him to stew in his own thoughts, and hoped he’d realize that he didn’t need to be so mean about it. 

But he wanted her to understand that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that was that. As withdrawn as a man he was, he’d found it surprisingly easy to open up to her about other subjects. His feelings, some of his brighter past, Beth- but those scars and the memories they linked to were something he wish he could forget. They were part of the reason he was he way he was. Cold, and angry, and fearless. But then again… Rosie installed a sense of fear in him. One that caused him to worry something terrible would happen to her if he wasn’t near her, or didn’t make sure she was okay everyday. He didn’t want to push her away; deep down he knew she’d only offer to help calm those raging memories, but it wasn’t something he was willing to face yet. 

Daryl looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was still faced away from him and curled into a ball. Probably cold. 

Love had made him scared. It was awful, and uncontrollable, but he couldn’t imagine not having it.

\---

How was it that the tension had only become heavier between them? There wasn’t even looks between them anymore, just… silence. And walking. 

Rosie was growing tired of it, but didn’t really want to try and defuse it. She felt if she said anything, he’d bite her head off. Or she would to him. Either way, it wouldn’t end well. But she couldn’t walk all the way home like this, especially at the slow rate they were going. And when they got home, they’d just walk into the same home. Maybe she should try to talk; she’d hate to bring this home. 

With a sigh, she spoke. 

“How’s your back?” she asked, but he didn’t respond. Daryl still felt the edge of anger lingering; if he said something, he’d say it wrong. Rosie rolled her eyes and kicked a stone.

“Are you ignoring me?” she asked, leaning forward a little to try and catch his attention. At least this time he looked at her, but his eyes were hidden by his bangs. She looked angry, and concerned, and confused all at once. “Daryl c’mon!” she said, her shoulders slouching a bit. 

“I asked one thing and you didn’t even talk about so why are you still mad?” she asked, stepping in front of the bike so he’d stop. 

“Cause it’s non'a yer business and you pried!” he yelled, standing straight. 

“How am I supposed to know that unless you tell me?” she yelled back, her eyes wide and her hands gesturing to herself. 

“If I didn’t talk 'bout it then it should’ve been obvious I didn’t wanna!”

“I can’t read your fucking mind- you need to talk to me if you want me to know shit like that!”

“Why you even care?” Daryl bellowed, and Rosie balled her fists and stepped closer to him.  
“Cause unfortunately I love you, moron! I just wanted to help!” she yelled back just as loud, but before he could fully process what she had said, she was storming off into the trees, leaving him alone to ponder over her words. He watched her until he couldn’t see her, and then looked blankly ahead. His stomach churned, and he felt a lump in his throat form. 

Love?

\---

He debated waiting for her to come back before deciding to track her. They trailed in zigzags and at one point even circled a tree, and he wondered if she purposefully tried to throw him off course. But Daryl’s tracking skills were seasoned, and his sharp eyes caught everything. Eventually he found the wide open field they led to, and at the edge farthest from him was a dilapidated barn with half of its roof torn off and some of the paneling of the walls gone. He didn’t have to follow her footprints to know she’d be in there somewhere. He’d learned that when Rosie was angry, or upset, she liked to retreat to darker places, not in the open. He could see her standing against a beam at the top, and when he moved inside and followed the ladder up to her, she didn’t even turn to make sure it was him. 

She knew it was by the sound of his footfalls. 

He stood across from her, also leaning on an old beam. They both looked out of the blown roof, onto the meadow around them. The tension that had loomed over them once before like a thick fog was gone, but now there was an uneasiness about how silent Rosie was being. It was usually her to be the one to dissolve their arguments, but today, that responsibility was being put on Daryl. She had said what she wanted to say, even though it wasn’t how she wanted her confession to be brought forward. She felt childish for it, but she feared rejection. It was a bad argument to lead up to something like that; maybe he’d have even more reason to not feel the need to return the gesture. 

“They’re from my dad.” Daryl said suddenly, his voice quiet. She looked to him then. He was looking down at his foot that was pushing around large pieces of splintered wood, unable to look her in the eye when he told her about this. “After m'brother left for the military, I was my dad’s target. Took those happenin' to finally run away.” he explained to her. That was all he felt he needed to tell. The details were too much of a burden, and bringing them to light would only make him feel worse. 

Rosie looked at him with concern in her eyes. Just by the way he spoke, and stood, she understood now that weight of what he told her was heavy on his shoulders, and felt guilty for dragging it out as she did. Finally he looked at her. The cold made her face pale, and her hair was damp from the dew hovering around them. Without the words to form an apology, she instead walked over to him and lifted his arm so she could hold him around his waist with her head tucked under his chin. It felt good to close that gap between them that had been beckoning to be filled since the night prior, and Daryl’s arm holding around her shoulders was the last piece she needed to let those sour emotions go. 

“I’m sorry.” she spoke, looking up at him. He looked at her, and she grinned when his eyes only held a residual of the anger he had before. “Me too.” he replied, but then previous conversation, or argument in this case, came to mind. 

“You said somethin' earlier.” he said, nervousness rising in his belly. 

She felt her body tingle. “I did.” she said, her voice cracking. Daryl’s back straightened a bit, anticipating his next words. “I do too.” he told her, and the small, in all honesty millisecond of a pause he felt before she hid her smile against his chest, almost dropped him to his knees. She leaned up, and he caught her lips with his. It started quick, just a peck or two, but then he saw something in her fiery eyes shift. The wildfire of them settled into something slow burning, and inviting, like he could crawl into those orbs and relish in her warmth. 

His crossbow fell to the ground with a loud thunk as he was unable to stop kissing her, and before he knew it, her hands were wound in his hair as his were creeping up under the back of her shirt and jackets again. But she pressed against him, trying to make it clear that she had no intention or desire to stop what they started so often. Those hands that came back out of her shirt ran along her back again, but atop of her jacket this time so he could grip around her shoulders mindfully and start to pull them down her arms. Rosie’s mouth left his long enough to help slide the jackets off, but she lingered close to him so her hands could peel apart his vest and jacket when her arms were free. Their movements were becoming frantic, and hurried. They just wanted to feel one another's skin without barriers anymore. 

His neck was outstretched as his arms flung his vest and layers off, and quickly wound around her waist once they were finally free, unwilling to part from her mouth. Rosie moaned when his hands slid roughly down her sides and gripped her hips, and his mouth landed on her neck to place open mouthed kisses. She held him there with her arms around his neck for a few moments; she’d gotten dizzy from the sudden rush, but soon was finding she wanted it again. Rosie grabbed him by the face and kissed him again, and simultaneously pulled him away from the opening in the roof and started to sit down, bringing him with her. 

In one fluid motion he had pulled her hips against his so she laid flat on her back, and he nestled perfectly between her legs. Now his hands could travel up her front and push up her shirt, revealing what nearly left him breathless: no bra. 

He wasted no time in placing his mouth over her nipples that sat standing atop her small, round breasts, and licked and sucked at them. He took his time with this; he wanted to memorize the exact feeling and taste of them. She writhed and moaned under him, her hands gripping his shirts and the ends of his hair tickling the skin of her chest; eventually she yanked him back up to her lips. Now she could shove her hands into his button-up shirt that she’d carefully undone as her mouth kissed him hungrily, and finally she could run her hands along his warm skin, and take in what she’d only had moments of before. 

But she still wanted more.

His heavy eyes opened when he felt her hands working at his belt loop. He looked down as she pulled the tongue of the belt from the buckle, then back up at her. With her lip pinched between her teeth, she smiled at him, leaning up for a quick kiss. She wasn’t prepared for him to suddenly sit up and unbuckle her jeans. She lifted her bottom as he peeled them from her legs hastily, but groaned angrily when he had to also slip her boots off. Rosie laughed, and pulled her legs back when they were finally off her feet. The cold of the floor was sharp against her bare bottom.

That image of her laying before him on the cold wooden floor in the chilly morning air with her knees starting to spread apart would always, always be burned into his mind- he knew it. He could see the excitement in her eyes, and barely caught the quiver of her full lips as he kneeled between her knees after he finished unbuckled his jeans. Her thighs brushed against his sides when she brought her legs closer to her chest, and felt goosebumps rise where they touched. The cold of the air around them wasn’t felt anymore and steam rose off of their hot bodies. Rosie’s hands reached up to pull him close, and felt his hand ghost against her lips as he aligned himself. 

Loudly she exhaled when he pushed into her, her eyes pinching shut. His breath blasted across her shoulder when he dropped his head, the overwhelming warmth and ecstasy of sinking into her inch by inch overcoming him until his balls touched her cheeks. 

“Fuck, Rosie.” he groaned against her skin, one of his hands curling in her wet hair that fanned around her head.

There was no wait before he pulled back and pushed in again, and for the first time in years, they both felt a sense of completeness as he rocked with her, pushing airy moans from her and causing him to lose all sense of reality. He buried himself in her, and reached his hands back to grab her ass and pull her as close as she could get even with her legs wrapped around him tightly. Again and again he felt like he would fall over the edge and lose it, but every time he slid back into her, it only got better. 

Rosie didn’t feel the need to speak, and even when she tried to form words, they’d only come out as vowels mixed with raspy moans. The heat she’d felt the need to extinguish in her lower stomach was only growing, and slowly moving along her body and down her limbs to every end and crevice of her body, pulling her farther away from the world around them. In that moment, all that existed was Daryl, and the way his hand held the back of her head so he could kiss her sloppily, and the emotions pouring over the edges of her heart. 

And when she finally could utter words that were nothing short of a whisper, and her hands running down his sides so her fingertips could feel how his hips rolled back and forth, she chanted, “Love you, love you, love you…”, into his ear as he gripped the floor above her head. 

\---

A tranquility had laid over them like a sheet, preventing them from moving anymore after they’d slipped their clothing back on lazily to hide from the cold and Daryl rested his head on her stomach with his arms around her. They hadn’t even bothered to buckle their pants or button their shirts and jackets. The skin of Rosie’s body still felt warm- feverish, almost, as his thumb traced the skin of her hip. She could barely muster the energy to move her fingers through his hair after the explosion of an orgasm she felt; one that had approached so slowly yet overwhelmed so suddenly- that left her shuttering and arching off the ground with such an intensity that caused her to scream out, and had left long trails of scratched across Daryl’s back. 

He smirked when he thought of it. How he could feel how fast her pulse was at the base of her neck when he kissed there; how her face looked when she tightened all around him. And when she pressed her face against the spot between his neck and shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure. Well worth the wait. 

“Say that again.” he said, and he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

\---

The gates opened before them when they finally made it back to Alexandria, just as the sun was disappearing behind the walls surrounding the safe haven. It had taken a great deal of effort for them to untangle from each other and walk the long road home, but somehow they did it. Daryl felt a newfound strength in himself when he pushed the bike, and both of them felt the significant looseness in their limbs after their detour. Conversation had been light, and a little silly on their way back- Rosie even had a giggle fit over a ridiculous joke he’d made, but how could such happiness she felt in her heart not come bubbling out? 

“You two were supposed to be back yesterday.” Rick said angrily, walking up to them briskly with Carl at his side. 

Daryl waited for him to take notice of the blown tire of his bike, but Rosie fought back a mischievous smile. If it hadn’t taken them three hours to gain the momentum to move after having sex, maybe Rick wouldn’t’ve been so angry. 

“We had to push the damn thing home.” Daryl said, his good mood dissolving a bit. 

“Did you see anyone?” Carl asked. They looked at him questioningly. 

“We spotted a few people around the walls last night. I don’t know if it’s the Saviors, but either way, someone is poking around.” Rick explained. 

Good feeling’s gone.  
Back to reality. 

Everyone was on high alert, and shifts were traded off sooner to prevent anyone from getting overly exhausted and not catching if someone came by. Guns were hidden amongst the town, but no one felt it was safe enough to hide any outside the walls in case someone was watching. No one left to retrieve the food at the building Rosie and Daryl had found. There wasn’t even a plan formulated to go for it once the threat had passed. At that time, all that mattered was being ready for an attack. For a solid week, the only times the two were able to spend time with one another was the brief moments they had before they switched off shifts, or if they were lucky enough to have one together. She still passed him snacks. 

But after that week of being on edge, everyone started to calm down a little. No one had been seen around anymore, and Rick had sent out a party of people to observe the surroundings, including himself. There was no tracks- no sign that anyone had been around recently. 

He still told everyone they should be ready in case Negan and his men attacked, but people started to get comfortable again. Judith was allowed to play outside again, and Rick felt comfortable enough to let her toddle around the town with Carl or Gabriel. Michonne one day convinced him to sit with her on their porch swing like they used to in the afternoon, and the longer he sat rocking, the more the tension in his body slipped away. Rosie felt her best when she spotted Abraham with a cigar in his mouth as he patrolled the streets, and that made her seek out Daryl who was coming down the steps of the gate post, a cigarette pressed between his lips. Seemed everyone was taking a breather, now. 

“Hey.” she said when he made it to the bottom, and plucked the smoke from his mouth to take in her own drag. “Hey.” he said, looking at her. She looked devious- there was a glint to her eyes, but he couldn’t decipher it with the smoke in her face. 

 

Her arm draped across his bare chest, and she hadn’t moved from his side for quite some time, but he didn’t think she was sleeping. Occasionally her leg would shift over his thighs, or her hips would wiggle. 

“Why can nothing stay like this?” she asked softly, her face smushed against shoulder. He shrugged, his hand resting on her thigh. “Don’t jinx it.” he said, turning his head so his face buried in her hair on top of her head. She giggled. 

“Hey!” she said suddenly, sitting up. 

“Hm?” he mumbled. 

“How old are you?” she asked, her eyes on his. His fingers that had started to drum on her thigh stopped, and she looked down at him. “Daryl?”

“Why you wanna know?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows. “Just curious.” she replied. It wasn’t something he’d ever actually told anyone, and if he did, he always changed his answer to deal with the issue accordingly. “How old are you?” he asked, staring at her. 

“Twenty nine.” she answered effortlessly, and he felt his cheeks redden, dropping back down on his back. “What?” she giggled, and he shook his head, trying to hide his face. “Tell me!” she laughed, shaking him a bit. “What, are you like some sixty year old daddy or something?” she joked, and he shot her a glare. 

“You’re awful.” With that, he rolled away onto his side, stretching his body that still felt like jelly. Rosie crawled over him, her naked body sliding over his until she was in front of him again. She pushed him onto his back and pinned him down with her own chest against his so he couldn’t turn away. “I won’t make fun of you.” she said sincerely, but he just bit his cheek as his hands ran down her sides as hers smoothed back his hair. But those eyes… those damn eyes had him buckling again. 

“Forty seven.” he said, and her eyes popped open and her jaw dropped. 

“You are not?” she exclaimed, purely in disbelief. “I thought you were like- thirty!” she said with a wide smile, and he shook his head. “Well you have the moves of a twenty year old.” she said softly, leaning in until she planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Oh yeah?” he said against her mouth, and she giggled as his hands rounded her bottom. 

But then there was a faint scream, followed by inaudible yells from Rick- then gunfire. Rosie was up before Daryl, pulling on her clothes and trying to look out the window. They both grabbed their weapons and ran out. 

"Rick!" Daryl yelled as he came running down the street. "We're surrounded, get everyone up!" He hollered, running past them and onto the next house. "By Walkers?" Rosie asked, looking at Glenn who was firing over the side of the wall. "Nah, he wouldn't get everyone goin' with Walkers." Daryl said, looking at her. "Another group?" She asked, but he couldn't say. "We have to help." She said, turning on her heel and running to houses Rick couldn't get to alone. 

"Rosie!" Daryl yelled, but that's when he heard the engine rev and then the crashing of the wall beside him. The heavily reinforced truck barreled through their defenses and nearly ran him down. At least ten men hung off the bed of the truck, all holding guns and various weapons and scattering into the streets. From there on out, everything fell apart. There was no matching their guns with his crossbow, and his only hope would be to get to the armory to grab a gun. But when he looked to where Rosie had ran off, he couldn't spot her. "Daryl!" He spun and pointed, coming face to face with Rosita who was pulling him beside a house and kneeling. 

"Maggie and Glenn are already with Judith and Carl- Michonne and Rick are getting everyone else." She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the people who continued to file in. "And Rosie." He said, and her eyes shot to him. "She ran off?" She hissed, but he looked away. Why did she have to run off like that? "I need a gun-," he was starting to say, but had one shoved under his nose. He hadn't noticed, but could now see the multiple rifles slung over her shoulder. 

They moved sideways along backs of houses, keeping their heads low as they pulled people from their homes and directed them to the exits made by rampaging motorists. It wasn't long before shouts of either victory or killings were filling the night, and somewhere in the distance a fire started. Probably amongst water where they once burned the Walkers. Eventually they made it farther than he'd seen Rosie run, but from where he was, all the houses were empty and being rummaged through. And then Walkers started filtering in , adding to the chaos. "There's Rick!" Rosita pointed, and he and Michonne with a few other inhabitants were working their way down the street, already heading for the main entrance. 

Daryl stood then. 

Rosie wasn't with them.

He ran to the street, bashing skulls of Walkers and sometimes shooting strangers when they aimed at him or Rosita. He spun and searched, his eyes jumping everywhere, but he couldn't see her. Panic started to fill his lungs, stopping him from yelling for her. He looked for the ends of her hair if she were running but he couldn't find anything.

"Daryl!" There was her voice.

He spun, and caught her form in the middle of the street fighting off a few Walkers in front of their house. Her backpack was slung over her back, and she was now wielding her hand axe, but with one bloody hand cradled to her chest. 

Oh no. Please, no, he begged. She couldn't have been bitten. 

He worked his way over to her as quickly as he could, but all the noise was only attracting more Walkers that swarmed in like waves. The invaders that had nearly cleared Alexandria were now establishing their newly conquered fort, and from where he was, he could see that they were getting closer to her. 

He wouldn't make it to her in time. 

Rosie looked at him frantically, slowly walking backwards towards the front where the main gate had been ripped from its track. It was her last chance. 

"I'll find you! I'll find you!" He yelled at her. She shook her head as she inched away from Walkers. Daryl's quick reactions saved his own life when a man wielding a machete ran to him, but fell with an arrow in his eye. "Rosie run!" He bellowed, and she turned, and ran. He watched until she disappeared into the dark of the woods outside the wall, wielding her axe at anyone who came close. 

 

\--

She ran for what seemed like hours. Until her lungs burned and her legs had gone numb, probably causing irreversible damage to her ankle that she had twisted some ways back. Her feet carried her over rough terrain, but she stayed near the road. Wanting to keep an idea of where she was despite the handful of runs she'd done, she always kept it in sight. And she needed to find Daryl. A while back she had stopped crying, the feeling of abandoning him gripping her tightly, but she still ran. If there was any chance of finding him, she had to stay alive. Above, dry thunder was rumbling through the sky, drowning out the gunfire and explosions from Alexandria. 

\--

Day break over Alexandria revealed the full extent of the damage that had befallen in such a short amount of time. It was gone; it belonged to strangers and the dead now. But from what Daryl and Rosita could see, not many of their own had been lost. Mostly ones who'd tried to barricade themselves in their homes. But now the men who'd stormed their fort had withdrawn, moving to rooftops and slowly plucking the dead off one by one. 

From their spot atop a mountain side, they could see the smoke that still billowed from the town. Daryl was already wrapping the strap of his crossbow around his arm and slinging his rifle around his shoulder. Rosita didn't speak as she followed him. Before he'd find the rest, he'd find Rosie. 

\-- 

Occasionally she had stopped to sit within the trees, never too far from the road so if someone passed, she could see. It was cold all night and that morning, and seeing as she only thought to grab her bag and hatchet and slip on one jacket, she did her best to rub her arms warm. Her hand that had been sliced when one of the men attacking took a swing at her had stopped bleeding, but it stung severely when she flexed her fingers or unwrapped the cloth to inspect it. No infection yet. 

And she waited.  
And waited. 

When noon came and went, she knew she had to find cover for the night, and hopefully find warmer clothes seeing as the sky was washing over with gray clouds. With one last cautious look in all directions, she silently moved down the street. Her thoughts hung heavy in her mind. 

She wondered how everyone was, where they were, if she'd ever see them again. But mostly she thought about Daryl. 

"I'll find you!"

She wondered if he really would, in all this forest and all these winding streets- 

Her eyes studied a side road that cut from the main highway she walked along, and where a small pile of debris sat at the corner of the small intersection. This was the street the two had taken when they looted the small pharmacy together. Rosie did a few circles, observing the area and hoping no one watched her, but before she could follow the side road, something stopped her. How would he know to look there? 

Setting down her bag she went to work, pulling up a large slab of ply board that had been buried in the debris. The mud under her feet proved to be useful, but she paused. What could she write that wouldn't give others away to her location? With a half grin, she smeared the words on the board: 

gringo @ first run together 

It was vague, but hopefully he'd get it, assuming he'd come by here. With that set against a tree she followed the side road, looking back to make sure it was standing until it was out of sight.

\--

A steady pace had brought them up the main highway quite some ways from Alexandria by nightfall, but even his own legs were starting to ache. They'd maintained a speed walk all day in hopes of finding her, of tracking anything she left behind. But light drizzles that had come and gone throughout the day had washed any signs away that she had been through here. His patience dwindled. His nerves were on edge when he thought about her alone out here again. He believed she could fight off threats, but could succumb to the cold that was quickly gripping the land. Luckily for them, they'd come across a small group of men that had no doubt been from the attack at Alexandria, and plucking them off from a distance had been easy. They hadn't had much on them, but the two took their warmer clothes and Daryl grabbed a little extra for Rosie for when he found her. He knew she'd be cold in just her hoodie and jeans. 

"Is that a sign?" Rosita asked suddenly, pointing to a piece of ply board that had been leaned against a tree. The letters were running down the sign, but as they got closer, he could make out: gringo @ first run together. 

"That's Rosie." He said, looking down the side street it was next to. "Gringo, huh?" she inquired, and he shrugged. "Nickname." He mumbled, and she shook her head with a smirk.

He felt some unease release from his mind. She was still alive when she had made it through here, so hopefully she'd made it a little farther, and could wait just a little longer. "We'll stay here tonight." He said, moving into the trees. Rosita stayed to look at the sign. What had become of the others who couldn't write signs? 

\--

"I was thinking..." She trailed off, setting down the granola bar that had been stashed in her bag before they left. Daryl looked back at her from where he stood at the tree line, his crossbow held in hand. "Maybe we should split up." She finished, looking up at him from the small fire before her. "Why?" His voice was calm, as well as his features, but she knew by the way his movements stalled that he was unsettled by her words. 

"We have to find the others, and while you're going for Rosie I can look for them." She explained. "You wanna split up? Right after that attack?" Now his voice was more aggressive, but she cocked her head at him with a knowing look. "You know I can take care of myself." She said, tossing small sticks into the crackling flames. Daryl couldn't deny it; she was one of the more self sufficient people of their group. He knew she could carry herself with no problem, but that didn't make accepting it any easier. "I don't like it." He grumbled, turning away from her. She stood then and walked to him, standing and observing the dark trees around them. "Everyone is already gone. Don't need you runnin' off alone." He said. 

It reminded him of when he'd gone after Beth, how he never quit until they'd found her. But even after she'd been shot, he carried her body. It felt too similar to that again. He never spoke of it though, but sometimes Rosie could catch the look on his face that portrayed the sadness he was holding in. "You love Rosie like you did that girl?" She asked then. He looked at her. "More?" She asked, and he nodded. "Lot more." He admitted. 

"Then it's okay for you to find her and me to find the others." Rosita said as she dipped her head down to catch his gaze. He turned to face the other way. 

She looked at him but he hid his face. "The next time we see each other, everyone will be together again." She said. "You go find her. I'll find the others." She said, and after a moment, he nodded. Part of him wanted to tag along with her, but he had to find Rosie. He couldn't let her slip away like that.

\--

The two had parted their ways early before the sun had risen, when only a soft blue hue was filtering through the foggy trees. He could see his breath in front of him as he walked along the street, and he wondered if Rosie had frozen overnight, or if she'd been able to find shelter. The leaves were dead and crunching under his feet, covering any tracks. But as long as the image of that sign kept popping up into his head, he'd keep going. There was still a ways to go, but he had ran days for Beth before she eventually was killed. He'd run for weeks to keep Rosie alive. 

\--

It wasn't much warmer in the pharmacy where the dead body still lied, with a handful of toothpicks in his eye, but she moved as quickly as she could. Her arms were stiff as she grabbed bandaging and medicines, also grabbing cans of miscellaneous food off shelves of the mostly ransacked store. Daryl hadn't been in anywhere when she arrived, but she'd stay a while and wait. For how long, she didn't know. She guessed that would come with the that passed. After some riffling through sparse shelves and properly bandaging her hand that she was sure actually required stitches, she pried open a can of corn and ate it, sitting on the counter near the windows so she could watch outside. 

A few times some Walkers would wander by, eyeing the buildings as if they recognized it, but they would leave just as slowly as they came. Eventually she rested her back against a checkout post amongst the counter, feeling fatigue pull at her eyelids. But she struggled to stay awake, bouncing her leg or blinking rapidly to keep her mind from shutting off. All the while her eyes stayed on the road, wishing, hoping, he'd come walking along. 

The loud slamming of car doors is what woke her. She didn't even recall when her eyes had closed, or when her axe had slipped from her hand as she slept on the counter. But now the sky was dark and she could see figures moving towards the store, flashlights pointed and guns most likely pointed behind the lights. Rosie ducked behind the counter, scrambling to pull her backpack on and find her axe and gun on the floor, but she stilled when she heard the doors open. Footsteps, soft talking of voices she didn't recognize. Some pushing around empty cans and debris on the floor. She waited until they moved farther to the back, probably towards the medicines towards the back before she rounded the counter and dared to peek at them. Four men, each combing down an aisle, but she didn't know if there was more. She eyed the door that had been cracked open. She could take a risk and slip out, make a break for the forest. Or she could slip out and be shot, or attacked by Walkers. 

The men were rounding back towards the front; she had to make a move, and quickly. 

With her hand gripping the axe and her rifle, she pushed off her feet and bolted, slipping through the doors but causing quite the racket. She'd kicked cans and nearly slammed the door against the wall throwing it open when it jammed, effectively alerting the men. They yelled after her, but she was already bolting down the street despite her limp. Quickly she made it into the tree line and after leading them some ways into the thick forest, she curved sharply and headed for the outer edge. It would throw them off, and as soon as she could she laid flat behind a risen trunk that would conceal her body. She could hear them, yelling and stomping around. Rosie pressed her face into the damp earth, hiding the trail of steam from her breath. It was so cold that she worried her clattering teeth would give her location away. But after a while they drew back from the trees, slowly making their way to the stores again. She inched up just a bit so she could keep her eyes on them, and didn't dare to move up against a tree some ways back until they were all in one spot. They continued to rifle through the store, always one of them keeping guard outside with a machine gun in hand. But it appeared she was well concealed in the dark of the tree line. She'd stay here where there was a view of everything, assuming nothing came along to blow her cover. And now she could steady her breathing, letting long puffs of hot breath flow out into the cold air.

She struggled to keep her nerve, but every noise made her jump. She wished she would've thought to grab one of the pharmacy coats at least instead of just sitting around and waiting. The skin of her arms was ice cold as well as her cheeks; how long could she sit in the cold like this? When the fog descended, coating her in a film of dew, she pulled her knees up to her chest and held her legs, trying to stop the forceful shivers the wracked her body. In her head she counted, trying to distract herself from the cold biting into her body. Eventually the counts turned to muddled thoughts, and then they wandered to Daryl. How she felt when they were laying in bed together, or when he was first kissing. She tried to draw the warmth from those memories, but they only proved to be a stark reminder of what she didn't have. Even when a tear found it way down her cheek, it was cold. Everything, everywhere was freezing. 

And then the leaves crunched near her. She only looked from behind her arm, and could see a slow moving figure start to work its way from the darkness. It was almost too cold to move, but with stiff movements, she scooted around the other side of the tree so she was out of sight and listened as it moved passed her, towards the strip mall. When the footfalls were faint, with skin that ached and limbs that were cramping, she rose to her feet and ran away. She wanted to try and wait for him, but a place like this that was now inhabited was a hot spot for Walkers and people alike. Rosie didn't know where she'd go, or how to go about finding him, but this place was too risky. So she ran, trying to ignore the biting cold as it rushed across her skin. 

\--

He'd made it to the pharmacy by night, just as the cold of the land was setting in. But there was already people there, and he didn't know if Rosie could be in there with them. He moved slowly through the trees, the aim of his crossbow true and his feet light on the rough terrain. When he was close, he lowered his bow, observing the two men that stood watch. Surely there would be more inside. Could he leave and assume she had avoided them? He contemplated this; how to draw them out, or how to kill them all, but then what if they had great numbers inside? 

He dropped his head as he cursed. He hadn't faced an ordeal like this before. And then his eyes caught something in the faint flickering of their fire. Footprints heading towards him, but they were small, and had strong kick off towards the heel, but what kept him staring was how close they were. It seemed for every step was was another of the opposite foot close to it, as if someone was limping. As best as he could he followed them, but any farther away from the fire light he couldn't see. It could be Rosie. But what if she was chased? There was larger footsteps after the small ones, but they circled close to the tree line and back towards the shop. He took another look at the building, and with a heavy heart, he left. He just hoped she was unharmed. Waiting for day break to come and follow the steps would be too great a risk of exposing himself, so he went in the direction he could see the last of. He tried to ignore the nagging in his head that she might be inside, held hostage, or being tortured. He had to believe she was somewhere else. 

\---

 

1 Week Later

How long could she keep walking? How many times had she passed that log with moss covering it's upturned roots? She had lost count. Somewhere along the lines, she'd lost her bearings and started walking in circles. She was sure of this because she had passed that car that was wrapped around a tree too many times. Thankfully enough, it had had clothes left behind of its last inhabitants, and even if they were a few sizes too big, the extra layers to guard from the cold were a blessing. Food, on the other hand, was scarce. There wasn't much left of her cans, and she wasn't skilled in hunting. Some days when she couldn't muster any more energy than to just walk, she'd sit beside trees and hope something would come along. She'd hope that someone she knew would cross her path, and she'd crawl to them and all would be whole again. She hoped and hoped that she'd hear Daryl cursing somewhere, and she'd find him with squirrels over his shoulder. But there was only Walkers, and rain, and cold. 

 

2 Weeks Later

It wasn't a good sign that he had found the others before Rosie, considering how wide of a distance he'd covered in those two weeks. 

Rick, Michonne, Carl, Judith, Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Abraham and Eugene. 

He counted all of them. They were all that was left. They never came across Rosita; he could only assume she wandered too far or was dead.

The group was lacking half its numbers. But just as happy as he was to see his friends, his eyes jumping from face to face, they could all see his heart drop when Rosie wasn't with them. There wasn't a need for words. They all knew what he was really searching for amongst them. Michonne was the one to place a hand on his cheek and look at him, a sad, knowing smile on her face. There was a chance they'd find her eventually, but it was slim to none. He even knew that. Daryl now tagged along slowly behind, sometimes veering off in wide arches around them and tracing the forest floor and side roads carefully, looking for any sign of her as the rest searched for a new home. But it was like she had been lifted from the Earth without a trace, or eaten…

 

3 Weeks Later

"You're a damn fool, Rosie." She hissed at herself, holding her left arm against her chest that rang with pain. Why did she think she could make that jump from the second story of the building unscathed? Now her already bad ankle was aching again, and her arm broken and useless for some time (assuming it healed right, eventually). She was furious with herself; how could she had let just two walkers pin her? Just two! She glanced behind herself as she hobbled down the town's street, away from the convenience store she had hoped still had food in it, but instead all she had now was her defenses lessened. With a growl, and a curse, she made her way to the trees. The town was picked dry, and staying in the open was dangerous. She had to keep moving. At least she had found a short, but useful aluminum bat in the store. Her own gun had become useless once the bullets ran out, eventually cracking from all the beatings she used it for, and her axe had become lodged in the chest of a walker that she was unable to yank free from when more surrounded her. 

 

1 Month Later

The gun in his hand was undeniably hers- was absolutely. He knew this with every fiber of his being. This was Rosie's gun, broken, laid in long grass, and without Rosie. 

He threw it viciously. He didn't want to accept that she might be dead. He also didn't want to accept that when he'd walk back to the group that they'd see tears pooling in his eyes.

 

2 Months Later

She turned the pendant in her fingers, running her thumb over it’s smooth surface. The small amount of light that peeked in through the barred windows of the abandoned asylum was enough to let her admire what she had left of him. He could still be alive, but Rosie had accepted that she could never see him again, also. She’d avoided gangs, and walkers, and starvation, but couldn’t find him. Alone, again. Alone. 

\---

“I don’t think there’d be much inside, but it would be shelter.” Glenn said, all of them looking at the earie building that sat at the end of a long road, nestled deep in trees that were dying from the cold. 

“Just had to be the creepiest place to be at night.” Carl said, holding Judith’s hand who kicked the crunching leaves playfully. 

“Let’s focus on getting at least one room cleared and secured for tonight. We’ll worry about more in the morning.” Sasha said, gesturing to one of the front buildings. The large gate surrounding it would prove useful, but if there were too many walkers inside, it could hinder them. “Daryl?” Rick called, and he emerged from behind the group when he finished circling around their cars and his bike, wiping his hands on his pants. Why were walkers so slimy? Though their home was gone, and almost all of their belongings, they’d been fortunate enough to recover some vehicles and Daryl’s bike when a handful of men were transporting them back to their main compound. It felt odd to ride without her; made her absence more deafening. 

“What do you think?” Rick asked. Daryl only shrugged. 

He’d retreated back into his old self. Cold and not willing to speak much. It was worse this time around. “Y’all made the decision.” he grumbled, fixing the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder. Before a plan had been mapped, he was already walking along the fence, his eyes on the ground and always searching. He knew to fight walkers, and protect his friends, but the sorrow that had an almost crushing weight on his chest made it hard to do anything more than that. Often times since her disappearance, he just wanted to sit, and stare, and stay there until she came along or until the sadness wasn’t as powerful. But life had to go on. With or without her. 

He heard them chatting about the room they were going to take, but he interested himself in walking the perimeter. Walkers could be lingering around a corner, swaying in groups until something alerted them. That was the most he wanted to do this day. 

\--

She had just started to doze off when the loud metal snapping of the fence around the building jolted her awake. Rosie exhaled- she was so tired. A full night's sleep had evaded her for a long time, and she thought hiding in this old building would finally grant her the chance to catch her breath, but not much was going her way, anymore. She shuffled over to the cracked window, expecting to find a walker trying to push its way through the fence that she’d jumped, but upon seeing a group of people breaking it open, she flattened against the wall. “Fuck!” she hissed, not wanting to risk being seen. She hurried to grab her bag and bat, and made her way down the old hall with broken doors and peeled walls, and sometimes old bed frames and gurneys piled in rooms. Upon opening the door to the stairwell, it creaked loudly. For a moment she paused, listening for yells that would signal they heard her, but nothing came. 

Rosie jogged down the steps as she slipped her hood on, struggling to stuff her hair in with one working hand, but she was ready to make a break for it once she reached the fire escape at the bottom of the stairs. 

 

Daryl was coming up on the last back door of the abandoned asylum, his crossbow in hand. The fence along the back was in worse condition than the front; walkers could easily slip in unless they parked a car in front of it. He’d heard something loud come from inside the building, but there wasn’t knowing if it was a walker or person until he- 

The door made hard contact with his body and arm, but in his effort to protect his face from being hit, the crossbow made hard contact with his cheek instead. Daryl fell back, and took a second to regain his bearings before he kicked the door shut, and watched the hooded figure bolting into the trees with a bat in hand. 

“Hey!” he bellowed, scrambling to his feet and running after them. 

Rosie heard whoever she hit yell, but her tired legs kept her moving. If she could get enough distance between them, she could circle around and make her way back to the asylum. Once that group of people discovered the multiple walkers wandering around the opposite end she was staying in, she was sure they’d leave, not wanting to waste their time with them. Why else was this place uninhabited? 

But she was having a hard time keeping pace. Her body was weak and her broken arm that was jolting around in her make-shift splint was bumping against trees painfully, causing her to stumble as she fought to keep moving.

Daryl could see the person struggling to keep pace, but when they suddenly took a turn and disappeared behind a cluster of trees, he cursed. He looked in all directions, unable to catch any glimpse of them. He panted, still holding his crossbow and using his other hand to touch the spot on his cheek that had been cut. His eyes shot down- there was tracks! He followed them. They winded back and forth between trees, probably trying to throw him off. But eventually the tracks led back to the asylum, and to a different entrance of a lower room. Specifically, through a window, and he could see where they had broken it to climb in through. 

“Daryl!” Sasha called. The rest of them had finished clearing a lower part of the three story building, and were luring out walkers from the section they had closed off. 

He didn’t answer. If the person was nearby still, he didn’t want to give away his location. 

Rosie stood in a dark hallway where light didn’t come in through the rooms, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs burned and the muscle of her thighs twitched under her skin, and soon her head would start pounding. She’d never looked back to who was chasing her, and by the sound of it, the group that was at the front of the building was picking off walkers one by one. That would spell bad news for her unless she could hide or flee again.“Jesus christ.” she said breathlessly, standing straight again and resting her back and head against the wall. With heavy feet she trudged down the hall towards the stairwell, but still didn’t dare to look out the window in case they were observing. Slowly she moved up the stairs, being mindful to not let her aluminum bat bang against anything.

Just as she had walked through the door and into the dark hallway of the second floor where she was originally trying to rest, a hand gripped the clothing on her back and spun her around, and she was thrown against a wall. 

Rosie grunted and threw her bat up, ready to bludgeon who ever had grabbed her, but the strangers crossbow was already pointed at her face-

Crossbow?

They both felt the sense of disbelief as they looked at one another. Both were dirty, and weakened enough that it showed, but they’d recognize each other's faces anywhere. 

“Daryl?” she choked out, lowering her bat. Daryl dropped his bow to his side, roughly pushing back her hood to better show her face. Her curls popping out completed her. Her mouth opened to say something, and her lips had just started to curl upwards into a smile when a loud snarl came from behind him. By instinct, she pushed him aside and swung wide into the walkers face, effectively splitting it open. But more were coming- they’d made it up the stairs at the other end. Daryl grabbed her arm and dragged her backwards, pulling the door of the stairwell shut. Rosie backed up as he held it still until the walkers were pressed against it, insuring they wouldn’t pry their fingers along it’s edge. 

And then he finally turned to her, and both of their arms opened as they embraced. Her shoulders shook with dry sobs as he rocked her back and forth, burying his face against her neck. Those two months that had felt like years passing all slipped away; she didn’t even feel the discomfort in her arm that was pinned between their bodies. The arm that worked and had been gripping his clothes roughy slid back across his shoulder until it was rested on his cheek; she wanted to look at him. Still, he lingered close, and like always, she had to move his shaggy bangs from his face to see him. 

But there he was- her Daryl. And she could see the gloss in his eyes as he looked back at her, and she made a noise somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. 

“Y'hit me with the door.” He said, his voice shaking. Rosie laughed, shaking her head and her face twisting into an emotion so strong that it left her more breathless than before.

Then there was only the snarling and slapping against the door, but it all drowned out as he kissed her. Though her lips were cold, they were still full, and soft, and inviting, and it brought back all the warm memories that had for some time only brought him sadness in her absence. It wasn’t in any means hurried, or rough, it was just… wholesome. They both relished in each other a few more minutes, letting the bad drain from their bodies and rejoicing in finding one another. 

This time, when he moved his arms around her again and pressed his cheek against hers so his mouth was close to her ear, he chanted, “Love you, love you, love you.”, softly; nothing more than a whisper. 

\--

They made it back to the others shortly after their reunion, and everyone was equally shocked to see her lingering close behind Daryl again. Even though they were lacking more than half the numbers they had at Alexandria, she was still elated to see them all. But she stayed close to Daryl, her hand every so often brushing his or her arm bumping his. Daryl moved against her on purpose- like a constant reminder that she wasn’t going to vanish into the wind. 

“There’s more coming.” Maggie said, watching as walkers from different directions started to make their way from the trees and towards them. “Close that gate- everyone get inside.” Abraham instructed, and himself and Daryl moved to shut it quickly and wrap the scattered chain around it. He told Sasha about the hole in the fence, and she slipped out to move a car in front of it. The others were already moving inside, but Rosie lingered, waiting to watch as the walkers pushed against the gate. It held, and clattered loudly, but it would do until a better plan was formulated. Daryl grabbed her hand when he turned to join the others, pulling her along behind the doors. 

\--

They could’ve eaten dinner; their guts were empty. 

They could’ve sat with the others; they all had so much to catch up on.

But he wanted her all to himself for a while. He wanted to keep holding her like this, and drink in all of the warmth her body still held that his own had longer for. With her back against his chest and his arms around her, they spoke softly, filling in the gaps of each other's lives that they didn’t have together. 

She told him about seeing tire marks that resembled his bikes, and how she followed them for days only to find that they had come from a different bike. 

He told her that he found her gun, and that before making it back to the group, he had gone back to it and beaten it against trees because he was so angry that he couldn’t find her. 

Rosie said she had come across Rosita wandering in the forest, but when she turned her around, half of her face had been ripped off and she wasn’t herself anymore. She said that she tried walking away- that she didn’t want to be the one to inflict the final blow, but Rosita followed her for a whole day. In the end, it was the least she could do. 

Daryl confessed that sometimes he’d sit on his bike, but not go anywhere. He would sit still and try to imagine her sitting behind himself with her arms around her. 

Rosie leaned to the side so she could look up at him, and her hand reached back to touch his cheek when he gazed down at her. They loved one another profoundly, and to had been ripped from another so suddenly left them both quaking inside still, but every moment that passed, the worry it was just a dream slipped away more. 

“I never gave up, but I accepted you might’ve been gone or dead.” she said softly, not even wanting to utter the words herself. 

“I never accepted it.” he told her. 

Rosie exhaled. “Well I guess I’m the asshole then.” she mumbled, sitting back against him. Her curled an arm around her neck, pressing his face against hers. 

“You better stick around the rest of my life.” he said to her, and she grinned. 

“Where would I go without you, gringo?”

\--

“We can’t stay.” Maggie said, shaking her head. “That wasn’t even the saviors- but Negan and his men will catch up eventually.” she added, looking at Rick. For the greater part of the morning they all had been conversing, trying to decide on the next course of action they were to take. 

“But will staying in Virginia keep him away?” Carl asked. 

“Staying in state means he’ll come along at some point.” Rosie piped in then. “I came across a few places that were all under his control. He’s everywhere.” she told them. 

“S'no where is safe?” Daryl asked, and they all knew the answer to that, but couldn’t respond. “We don’t have to fight this one.” Sasha said, and Rick nodded. 

“If we go, we all agree. I don’t know where we’ll end up, but we’ll follow the road- keep going forward. We’ll find a new home.” Rick said, and slowly, everyone nodded. There was no home left where a constant threat was present. So they’d leave. They’d start over, but carry with them their experiences and the memory of the people they’d lost along the way. 

One by one, they made it to their cars, ready to take on the long and risky journey to where the road would lead them. Rosie stood by Daryl’s bike, and she smiled sadly with her hand rested on the seat. It was unfortunate they weren’t going home, but wherever her love was and these people she now considered family- that would be home from now on. He came up behind her then, and saw the conflicted emotions on her face after clipping his crossbow to the bike, and worried she’d be unwilling to leave with him. 

But she spoke first. 

“You sure you wanna go?” she asked, and he faced her. He planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

“Wherever you are, that’s where I’m gonna be.” he said, and listened as the rest of them had driving off down the dirt road leading away from the asylum. Rosie smiled. With a spring in her step, she threw her leg over the seat of the bike and sat down. That was enough for him.


	2. Hermosa

Again, I started this over to revise it when I was already like… 60 pages in ‘cause I was unhappy with how it was going. Has anyone ever made a rough layout of something they want to write, but for some reason they sway from their original ideas and everything ends up really weird and unrealistic and then you’re like ‘why did i do that?’ Trying to be more attentive to detail and keeping the characters… well, in character. Hope you enjoy the read! 

Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership to The Walking Dead or it’s characters.  
Rosie is mine however- I created her. 

\-------------------------------

"Where there is love, there is life.” 

\-------------------------------

Sharp eyes scanned the dusted and crumbling living room, searching for any signs of life before they entered. With her bat clenched in her hands, she silently moved down the hallway, peering into rooms on her left as Michonne took over the ones on their right. The house was empty, and looked to have been for a while. Enough for dirty webs to hang from the walls and mold to grow over the turned furniture, with weeds creeping through broken floor boards and cracked walls. They relaxed, taking their time to shift aside debris and pull open drawers. Rosie’s feet instinctively took her to the bathroom, and she was contented to find an unopened bag of syringes and some aspirin. The empty bottles of insulin littering the floor told an obvious story, and she was relieved to know they hadn’t been in the hands of an addict. As she walked out of the doorway, she pulled her heavy curls that stuck to her neck up and into a bun, but her sweaty hands tugged at her tresses. With a grunt she hastily tied it up, trying not to let it aggravate her even more than the heat that hung over her like a wet sheet was. 

“Anything?” she asked Michonne, finding her in the kitchen pantry. She showed her the canned foods she’d found and some soap. They both shrugged. Turning up with nothing would’ve been worse. 

With her hand fanning her sweaty face, Rosie moved around the house, hoping to find something worthwhile since they’d ditched their original destination to check out the small cottage hidden in the trees. Soft snarls caught her ear, and she peered out the grimy window. A small group of walkers was heading towards them, despite the minimal racket they’d made. 

“Mich!” she hissed, spinning on her feet to help her gather her findings. Quickly the woman collected themselves, and as the moaning walkers bumped and stumbled inside, they moved back slowly so they could move alongside the house to avoid them. But of course, a few lingered outside, staring despondently around them. A low breeze rubbed against the girls backs, and carried their scent to the walkers who eventually turned to them. It only took a few snarls to alert the others inside, and then for them to start banging against the windows and walls. 

“Well great.” Rosie groaned, standing straight and moving her bag behind herself. 

 

 

His eyes didn’t move from the tree line, nor did his body move from where he originally stood before they left. It had been a while, but the silence was reassuring. Rick had grown impatient, pacing the road slowly with his Boa in hand and his eyes jumping everywhere. 

“They’ve been gone a while.” he mumbled as he walked behind Daryl. “S’fine. We would’a heard if somethin’ happened.” he countered, his hands adjusting on his crossbow. 

“They’re getting close.” Glenn said, lowering his binoculars after observing the herd that was a quarter mile down the road. He handed them to Abraham who stood beside him in the bed of his truck, and his mustache twitched in annoyance. 

Maggie followed his line of sight, but couldn’t see the full extent of them. Her hands rested nervously on her round stomach. “They sure do pile up around here.” she mumbled. Sasha also tried to see them from her spot on the ground beside Judith. The canned artichoke hearts that had been given to the young girl hadn’t been very appealing, and the hungry child was growing impatient being stuck on the highway in the heat. Normally she was a quiet girl, but any small noise could put them at greater risk in unknown area. They didn’t know hotspots here like they did near Alexandria. 

“Here. I was saving it, but it’ll keep her quiet.” Carl handed Sasha the last half of his candy bar. 

The foliage beside the road shook, and they all collectively tensed. With weapons raised they waited, but all that came out was Rosie and Michonne, blood splattered, but overall okay. By the way they gestured towards the vehicles, the rest knew to vacate the area. One by one they loaded into their cars, and when Rosie had finished placing her bat in Rick and Michonne’s jeep, she easily caught up to Daryl who was already walking his bike with his feet. Just as the last of them had sped away from the road, the walkers were bursting from the trees, their hands grabbing for the cars. 

 

 

“All we’ve found here is more walkers than anywhere else. It’s not worth staying around.” Sasha said, finishing the last of her water bottle and tossing it into the bed of Glenn’s pickup beside the other empty bottles. “She’s right- there’s nothing here for us. Even the cities that aren’t crowded have nothing.” Maggie added, shifting uncomfortably where she stood. Rosie finished winding the hand towel she’d doused with the last of her water and draped it across the back of the heavily pregnant woman’s neck, hoping to relieve some of her discomfort. She knew all too well what it was like being so heavy and hot in the summer. Rosie had continually kept a close eye on her, doing her best to examine her when needed and listen to the baby’s heart rate with the stethoscope she had, but without modern machines, it was still a shot in the dark. The kick-count booklet she’d fashioned reassured them to an extent, but until the child was born, there’d be no knowing it’s overall condition. 

“We still have to find water.” Rick said quietly, rubbing his tired eyes.

“And then we can leave?” Carl asked, dabbing some of the sweat under his eye bandage. 

“To where?” Rick asked, a little irritated. This level of uncertainty was like the suspense of knowing something terrible was going to happen, but not knowing when. Rick was always looking over his shoulder and listening for a barrage of cars to show up out of the darkness, and for Negan’s men to drag them back to where they fled.

“Why don’t we just focus on getting water and some rest, and tomorrow we’ll regroup?” Michonne offered, rubbing his stiff shoulders. Reluctantly he nodded, looking back at Daryl who had been walking the length of the abandoned highway. “Anything?” he asked, but he shook his head. “Nah, too dry.” he responded, walking back beside Rosie who was still sitting on the parked bike, unwilling to move anymore than necessary in the parching heat.

“Let’s head out then.” Rick sighed, and although everyone was slow moving and tired, they gathered what they needed and moved along in different directions after hiding the cars and bike. Rosie unclipped Daryl’s crossbow and traded him for an empty jug, but he still trailed behind her as she chose a path along an exit that wound through open fields. Her hand shielding her eyes from the sun did little for the intense heat on her body, but she tried not to complain. 

Georgia summers are worse, Daryl had told her. Even when everyone agreed, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than this. 

Though she’d kept most of her complaints to herself, Daryl could see the discomfort in the way she’d pull at her clothes, or rest her hands at the back of her neck, and her overall short temper since the heat had first set in. Small inconveniences made her touchy, and she had snapped at him and a few others. In the end, she’d always apologize just to get annoyed all over again. 

“You overheatin’?” he asked, matching her pace. She nodded, looking for any piece of shade around them. But the rolling fields didn’t even have a breeze to spare. They walked in silence mostly, their eyes searching for any sign of water nearby. But there was only grass, and roads, and an abundance of ground squirrels that Daryl took down with expert precision. At least they’d eat good that night. Rosie helped tie them with twine, hanging some off her bag so the weight wasn’t all on his shoulder. That’s when Daryl spotted her favoring one arm. 

“Again?” he asked, stopping to turn her and rub her shoulder blade. Rosie groaned, wincing at the soreness.

“Swung too wide.” she mumbled, pinching her eyes shut when he pulled her arm back. “Maybe y’need to work it out.” he offered, letting her curl it against her chest again. “Nah, it broke and didn’t set right. I’ll always have issues.” she told him, patting his chest. 

“What a daisy.” he teased. “‘Scuse me, angel wings?” she cooed. 

“Daryl, Rosie- comeback.” The walkie-talkie at Rosie’s hip sounded, and she pulled it up. “What’s up?” she responded, walking back beside Daryl so he could hear. 

“Found water if you guys wanna stop by.” Abraham said sarcastically, and she scoffed. 

“Nah we’ll just find our own, thanks though.” she retorted. 

 

 

The gentle river that Abraham had nearly fell into had significantly bettered the mood of the once low spirited group, and there was even laughter jumping around. It would be hard when they’d have to leave such a perfect location; the river cut between trees and even under a few roads, but it was the secludedly of it that attracted them. And it was the first time in a while they hadn’t seen walkers piled up significantly in one location. 

Back and forth Judith passed wet stones to everyone, all of whom were sat on the bank or boulders of their own, washing the accumulated dirt and grime off their bodies. Soft, collective chattering and laughter swam with the water rushing by their feet, bringing the first wave of relaxation the group had been able to savor since first fleeing. 

Stones were used to scrub skin of itching bug bites, and old soap that had been saved until the last drop was made to reach every inch of their bodies. 

Abraham and Sasha sat with their legs in the water, letting the suds soak on their scalps and even his impressive mustache that Judith would come up to touch and run away giggling from when he twitched it.

Carl would dunk his head under several times, his eyes rolling into the back of his head every time he felt the cold water run along his scalp. Michonne and Maggie swore up and down they could see fleas jumping off of Rick’s head and beard, but Glenn would shake his head from behind them, scrubbing his own head more fervently when they weren’t looking.

Daryl didn’t want to bathe- he didn’t think it a necessity to stay alive and alert, but Rosie was adamant. She pulled his boots off and dragged him by the belt into the water, ignoring his loud protests. He groaned angrily for a while, angrily splashing water on his arms, but when she stripped down to her bra and panties and sat him down to wash his hair, even he couldn’t deny it was nice when he leaned back between her knees to let her scrub his head. Eventually she got his vest and shirt off to soak, and her hands moved gently over his scars. 

He winced when she tugged at a lock of hair, plucking something from the strands. 

“Mud?” He mumbled. 

“M-mm, more fleas.” She said, rinsing her hands in the water. He hissed, splashing water back at her and again wincing when she pulled his long hair into two little buns, causing a stir of laughter from the others. 

They shouldn’t’ve lingered in the water for so long, but how couldn’t they sit and talk, and enjoy it? How couldn’t they all stretch their legs out and indulge in this occasion, just a little longer? It was times like these that kept them going, striving for another break. 

 

 

Eleven squirrels in total were caught- more than one per person. And with them deciding to stay by the water that night, they could gorge before taking off the next morning. A small fire crackled between them, and everyone settled in. The water running lulled them all into a calm state. Aware, but enjoying the hushed chatting. It would drift between stories, and jokes, sometimes would grow serious when a fallen friend was brought up. But the overall mood was placid for a change. Past days that filled with heavy tension and no speaking melted away, and the chemistry ignited between them all again. 

Daryl looked down at Rosie beside him, her nose in a book as always. 

“More war stories?” he asked, shifting on his arms stretched behind him. She shook her head. 

“Baby book, for Maggie.” she mumbled, flipping the page. “Thought you knew ‘bout all that stuff.” he said. 

“I’m a paramedic, not an OB.” she said with a grin. “Still know ‘lot. Hear you talkin’ bout it.”

“There’s always room to learn more though.” she replied, leaning against his side.

That bath had made a world's difference in her attitude, and even though there was warmth still whisking through the air, her clean skin would occasionally erupt with goosebumps when it rubbed against her, or at every soft pass of his fingertips up her back or arm. Sometimes he felt too dirty to touch her- she was the warmth of the sun and skin kissed by it wrapped into a woman whose wild eyes could still make him feel feverish. He was dirt, and old leather, but a man who spent most of his days in the dark craving that kind of heat. 

They were day and night- the rays of the sun rubbing against a curled shadow. 

He shifted beside her, the arm he’d been leaning on also the one her head was rested on. Her head bobbed a bit, and he caught her eyes slowly opening and lifting the book. “Tired?” he asked lowly, but she shook her head. “Relaxed.” she sighed, closing the book and readjusting her head to look at him. “Been awhile since we could kick-back like this.” she mumbled, and the quieter she talked, the more he’d lean in to hear her. 

“Don’ jinx it, woman.” he said softly, and she stretched. Rosie chuckled. “You’re superstitious?” she asked him, leaning back to bump him a little. “No I ain’t- I’m realistic.” he retorted. 

“You believe in ghosts and mythical creatures too?” she teased. 

“I saw a chupacabra once.” he said seriously, his narrow eyes flying over to Rick, who in turn rolled his. Rosie looked at him sideways. “I suppose if dead people can wander around than the chupacabra isn’t too unrealistic.” she said. 

He looked at Rick, his eyebrows kicking up in an arrogant expression, but the former sheriff only laughed. A short silence fell between them, Rosie’s eyes set up at the bright, starry sky. 

“Gonna get back to readin’?” he asked. 

“Tired of talkin’ with me?” she asked. He scoffed. 

“Did I throw off your nightly routine?” she joked, but he ignored it and looked back to the fire. Another pause.

“I wish we could stay here a while.” she finally spoke. 

“There’s no cover.” he argued, not too fond of their location besides the river next to them. “We have the trees, and there’s shade and squirrels everywhere- what’s not to like?” Rosie asked, craning her head back. 

He looked at her again, his hair picking up as a breeze drifted by. Rosie’s curls fluttered around her neck, but she pushed them away. “Call it home sweet home?” he asked her, and now she was the one to roll her eyes. “Smartass…” she said under her breath- enough for him to without thinking lean in more to hear her.

But then he was close- so close that she stole a quick peck on his lips, despite everyone around them. His lips pursed- he felt cheated of a kiss. Maybe it had been the separation- he’d felt foolish for taking small things about her for granted, and it had made him take chances, even if others eyes were wandering nearby. Either way, when he claimed a kiss from her and hovered, his mouth catching hers again and again for small smooches, he didn’t even realize they had an audience. 

A crack of the fire drew his attention away, but his eyes moved to catch the staring where his face looked otherwise, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. Rosie bit her cheek, resting her head back against his shoulder. 

It wasn’t until the rest were sleeping and the fire was low that he chose to speak, and didn’t feel the hesitance to curl behind her on the ground, his mouth close to her neck as they talked. About anything and everything, topics that weighed heavy on the heart or forced him to smother his laughter against her shoulder and her face in her hands. They’d get lost listening to each other. He’d fallen asleep facing her, his arm under her head and the other against her side, and soon sleep had consumed her after trying to stay awake to study his face that she rarely saw this peaceful. But a long night of hushed talking pulled them under heavily. That was probably the reason that when morning came, neither of them heard the rattling hubcaps before a few walkers were already reaching for Carl and Judith. 

Michonne’s quick reactions spared them their lives, but once she was up and slicing, so was everyone else, effectively drawing the attention of additional walkers roving nearby. Promptly, they were all scrambling to group their belongings and head to the cars parked away from the river, but it was hard to cut open paths. Walkers piled up quickly even though they moved slow, but Rosie was determined to grab the jug of water that Sasha had left behind in haste to stay with the group.

“Just leave it!” Daryl hollered as she bolted from him, but he was busy pushing back snapping jaws. 

Dodging the clawing hands was easy, but as her arm had cocked back with her bat, the joint snagged and she lurched backwards. Frantically she kicked at the walker crawling for her, and trying to swing with her other arm was futile. 

“Fuck!” she hissed, pulling her knife from her side and preparing to stab when the butt end of Glenn’s gun bashed in the skull of the one grabbing for her. Rosie rolled to grab the jug, and swiftly stood to run back to Daryl who was moving between her and the walkers that continued to press from the trees. Everyone was in motion, running through the field that the cars were parked on the other side of. It took no time for them to load up, and for Daryl and Rosie to join them on the road once the bike was pushed onto the street. 

She looked back once they were flying down the highway, and at the significant number of walkers that were piling onto the road and fumbling after them. She sighed, and turned to rest her cheek against his shoulder blade. A hand on her knee soothed her incompletely; that heavy hearted emotion still hung on her back. 

Will we ever catch a break? 

 

 

“That’s a long drive.” Abraham commented. 

“No different from the one you’ve made before.” Sasha said, but he side glanced at her. “There was a reason then- this is just to whatever we find.” he explained. 

“If you’ave somewhere in mind say it now.” Daryl snapped, a little agitated at how he was unwilling to hear anyone’s suggestions. Abraham met his glare, but didn’t speak. 

“No one knows where to go, that’s why we’re all making the decision, as long as it’s away from Alexandria and the Saviours.” Rick said sternly, silencing the men. But then they were all silent, unable to decide just where they could point a finger on the old and tattered map and claim home. 

“Before anything is decided, we need to find somewhere to hold down a bit for Maggie.” Glenn piped in then, drawing their attention and reminding them of the impending labor that could start any week. A little embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her large stomach. 

“We’ll stop somewhere along the way.” Rick assured them, and passed the map to Daryl who was leaning against his bike with Rosie who in turn passed a bag of stale chips they’d been sharing to Carl. They both looked at the ground they’d covered and even some of the ground she’d crossed off when she was alone, but never would she suggest returning to those places. It seemed that anywhere warmer attracted higher walker and gang activity, but what if… 

“Going back t’Atlanta would mean passin’ by the Saviors again!” Daryl exclaimed. 

“Not if we go around!” Abraham retorted, but Rosie raised the map between them. 

“What about Colorado?” she asked them all. It was wide, and long leap to suggest such a journey, and it puzzled most of them.

“What if walkers freeze in the snow?” she asked. “That means we could freeze, too.” Sasha commented. 

“Not if we collect as much winter gear and supplies as possible. We’d still have a few months until it starts getting cold and then the trip there should eventually turn up with some stuff.” she explained, giving the map back to Rick. 

They were all silent, wondering if such a trek across the states was worth the risk being on the road that long. 

“There could be new gangs.” Rick said. 

“As anywhere else.” Michonne told him. He looked at them all, trying to gauge their willingness to do this or chose somewhere else. “New roads, new areas to learn, and a whole lot of time on the road. That means gas, food, supplies- everything. We all do this or decide somewhere else.” he expressed, not totally on board with this, but he just couldn’t find it in him to make the choice for everyone. He’d chosen Alexandria, and to take down the outpost… that guilt still plagued him. 

“Bikes ‘n snow don’t go well together.” Daryl told her, and she shrugged. “Hopefully by then we’ll be settled somewhere so we won’t all have to be out at the same time.” Rosie told him, and with a hand patting his, he nodded, looking back to Rick. 

“I’m down.” he told him. 

“Me too.” Carl said, adding, “I’ve always wanted to see the snow.”

“Us too.” Maggie announced, and Glenn put an arm around her waist. Rick looked at Michonne, and she grinned. “You already know.” she said softly, but then he looked to Sasha and Abraham. Sasha looked willing, but the tall, brutish man beside her looked reluctant, much of the same way he did when they had met a crossroads in trying to decide to DC, or not. 

“It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” Sasha suggested. 

“That’s exactly why. I busted my ass getting Eugene to a place that was doomed from the beginning and now look where we are. There’s no plan this time. It’s pissing into the wind.” he snarled, and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“You’re either with us or you ain’t. Don't be talkin’ ill ‘bout our dead.” he told him, with as much restraint as possible. Rosie elbowed his side; abandoning was not an option no matter how irritated she was also becoming. The glare she shot him was clear, and intimidating, but he still thought it funny. 

“He’s in.” Sasha declared suddenly, and Abraham eyed her, clueless as to what was going through her mind. 

“Pissing into the wind? Anything we do, any decision we make has a chance of going wrong- we always stand a chance of facing danger. But we have an actual chance. If we stay here or go back then we’ll end in nothing. So you’re going where there’s one.” She scolded him, leaving no room for negotiation. He puffed his chest, and his brows turned down in anger… but he looked back to Rick, and nodded. He’d tell her later on that it was because of her sound opinion, but not so easily admit it was also because he’d follow her anywhere. 

“Settled then? To Colorado?” Carl asked, the excitement impossible to mask in his voice. 

RIck looked at him, and gave the group a once over. With a long sigh, he nodded. Not completely ready to leave, to start over, but this world didn’t offer anything easy. It’d be on the move ‘till the day he died. “It’s gonna be a long trip. Gas is already scarce, so siphon it whenever you can. If you see any warm clothing, grab it. Any food, water, bullets- everything. We need to be prepared for anything if we’re going to be on the road for that long.” he told them all. It wasn’t something they needed to necessarily hear, but the edge in him wanted this to be thorough. 

“This will pay off when we get there.” Michonne said, giving him a warm smile. 

“If we get there.” he replied gloomily. 

 

 

They had just made it into Kentucky when they decided on Colorado, but to leave a state untouched would be foolish on their part. Everyday new areas were combed through finely, and everyday a new group would start where the last one left off. No store was unchecked, and no car was left sitting with even the smallest amount of gas in it. Kentucky was surprisingly barren of people- only a few groups had been discovered, and they’d only wanted Rick and the others to move along and leave them be. He was always worried they were being followed, or that the Saviors reach extended wherever they rested their heads that night, but they pushed forward despite his sour attitude. 

Due to Maggie’s growing stomach however, progress was slowed. Being heavily pregnant meant mobility was compromised, and once her baby’s head had rotated down, Rosie too hung back sometimes to keep a closer eye on her. How far along she was could only be estimated, and even just being off a week could be critical. One wrong stretch or surprise could break her water, and in the open like they were, it could spell disaster. 

But they made due, just like they’d always done. They found things to laugh at, and moments to keep close to their hearts as part of the journey they’d always be embarking on. 

Findings weren’t impossible, but as usual, it was slim pickings. And to find any winter clothing anywhere was challenging. When the apocalypse had hit, summer was just approaching. Nobody was selling jackets and sweats, but thankfully some hunting and sporting goods stores had items stashed away in warehouse boxes and under piles of rubble. Before any of them realized it, two weeks had gone by as they moved in organized fashion across the state. They’d gathered an impressive collection of gas, food, water, even more artillery. But medicine was always the trickier one to find. They’d come across clinics and small offices, but they were always wiped clean. 

Until they set their eyes on a specialty hospital on their way out of Kentucky.

“There’ll be a pharmacy inside packed with medications.” Rosie told them, chewing on a mint leaf. Sweat lined her brow despite sitting in the shade, and her skin looked a few shades lighter. 

“Still sick?” Daryl asked, moving to feel her forehead. 

“Probably have a bug or something.” she told him as she fanned herself. “We should check it out.” she added, gesturing towards the massive hospital. 

Daryl wavered a bit- flashbacks of hospitals he wished he could forget were clear as day; of men in uniform hitting Carol and taking her, and of the girl he formerly loved being shot in an illit hallway. “Worth it though?” Rick asked, using his binoculars to assess the number of walkers that drifted around the front. Not many, but more would surely come once they started. 

“Painkillers, antibiotics, vitamins… It’d be a waste not to grab some of it.” she told him, eyeing the stairwell she could see inside the glass walls of the main building. If she could find a pediatrics wing, she could grab some stuff for Maggie also.

“‘N medicine for you.” Daryl added. “Been a couple weeks you’ve had a bad stomach.” he argued, but she still just shrugged it off. “I’m okay.” 

“I don’ think there's anyone there. They woulda been keepin’ watch.” Daryl noted, looking at Rosie. Her sickly form worried him, but she’d insisted she was fine, and hadn’t slowed any of the times he asked if she needed a break. 

“We could do it quick. Go in through the front and out through the back so we don’t run into the same group of walkers.” she told him, and he nodded. 

“Just you two?” Rick asked, the concept rattling his nerves even more. “Too many people in that big a hospital are bound to get lost. Just the two of us can be in and out faster.” she told him, already checking the rounds in an assault rifle and pulling a backpack from the car. 

He didn’t like it, but still bit his tongue. 

“Got your walkie?” Daryl asked her, and she tapped her hip where it was always clipped. With his crossbow loaded, and her hair tied up, they moved down the hill they’d been observing the hospital from, leaving Rick to slowly pace back and forth nervously. “No more than an hour.” he called after them.

He didn’t like this. 

 

“Those doors are cracked open enough to slip through.” she whispered, kneeling beside Daryl; the flipped car they crouched behind would be their last cover before exposing themselves. There was one more street they had to move down before they could reach the doors, but it was where the walkers wavered. They were spaced apart, but could circle quickly once they were set on a target. 

“They’ll come in after us.” he retorted, but she shook her head. “We can push that piano in front and break for the stairs.” she explained, pointing to the black grand piano in the lobby of the main entrance. 

“Alright then.” he mumbled. 

And then the two were running, their heads on a constant swivel and their weapons raised as walkers started to close in on them. It was easy enough to dodge them or take one down- it was fearing that a person was perched somewhere with a gun that was the main concern. But down the road they went, tagging close and watching each other's sides. The made it to the curve in the road where cars before could’ve parked to pick patients up, and Rosie sprinted for the sliding doors as Daryl kept watch around them. 

She spotted a discarded IV pole and used it to pry the doors apart, cringing when the metal on metal railings rang loudly, but they eventually opened. “Let’s go!” she called, and he moved backwards, waiting for her to climb through before he joined her. After moving around the piano, she shoved her shoulder against it, summoning all her strength to move the massive object. It was moving but slowly, and her eyes shot to where walkers would soon start to slip in. 

She cursed, spinning to find walkers stumbling from farther down the lobby in the wake of all the noise they’d made. 

“Go for the stairs!” he ordered, knowing they couldn’t move the piano in time. She snatched her gun from the ground and bolted, looking back to make sure he was there with her. Daryl pushed her aside to throw the door open with his bow raised, looking to make sure it was clear. Then he was tugging her arm to move her inside before following and slamming the door shut. Thankfully it still latched, and he could lock it from the inside. 

Rosie breathed heavily, leaning her head against the wall. There was heat, and sweat, and exhaustion, and then the kick of nausea made it’s ugly face known again. With a hand over her mouth, she squatted, trying to push it down. 

“Hey hey, you okay?” Daryl asked, kneeling beside her and angling her face so he could see her. 

Rosie nodded, wiping her hands across her face and pushing back some stray hairs that had flown free. The slapping hands against the door distracted her, and she could see skinned faces shoving past one another to peer inside. 

He helped her stand and walked close behind up the stairs in case she fell back. 

They climbed three flights before Rosie stopped to read a wall map, and look through a cracked door. “Hem-onc.” she breathed, and pulled the heavy door open. It echoed down the lonely hallways and Daryl followed, spinning around every corner, but there wasn’t even the shuffling of walkers to be heard.

“They wouldn’t of let people wander here, even if they were bit.” she said softly. 

“What’s that?” he asked, feeling his own voice too loud in the eerie quiet of the old halls. 

“Blood disorders and cancer.” she replied, pushing passed heavy doors that led into a lobby that was connected to a small playground. The sterile smell that hospitals carried was gone, and now only a quiet layer of warmth and dust and mold covered everything. The desks and chairs were broken and turned about, and papers littered the ground where old suitcases and belongings had long been abandoned. A small section was filled with shelves full of books and even some toys… Rosie swallowed. “This was a children’s hospital.” she realized, noticing the abandoned car seat in a far corner, and once passing through another set of doors, the metal cribs lining the hallway. It hadn’t been apparent before, but now that they took the time to observe the torn wall paper, and the pictures of balding children wearing masks and standing next to nurses with IV’s, it was obvious. 

“This is just outpatient, they have the medications in a pharmacy somewhere in the hospital.” she told him, walking back through the double doors where she could find another wall map. “There- near Emergency.” 

Her finger traced the line to the ER, but it was across the hospital, and on the bottom floor again. 

“There’s gonna be walkers downstairs.” he said, and she nodded, and started walking down the hall, reciting every left and right she remembered from the map. They passed endless doors... and eventually bodies that lined the edges- it looked that they had been laid on cots in the hallways when they passed. Hospitals had been flooded and there just weren’t enough rooms. Carefully they walked around brittle corpses of children and their parents, and of some doctors and nurses still in rotten uniforms.

Daryl watched her move as far away from the smaller bodies as she sped down the hallways. She was on edge-the usual sway of her hips was stiff, every crunch beneath her feet made her jump. It was unlike her, even if she was feeling ill.

Rosie stopped short when she looked out the windows of the bridge they were walking through. “There it is.” she pointed to the emergency room that (surprise), was populated with walkers. 

“Well thas’ out of the question.” Daryl grumbled, observing all around them. 

“There might be another way to get in inside.” she told him, and he sighed, but finally nodded. She fidgeted some more, adjusting the straps of her backpack and tightening her grip on the rifle. 

“Rosie?” 

She chose to walk from him instead of revealing what her body clearly showed. He knew what was wrong, and she had an idea that he knew, but didn’t want to discuss it. She needed to stay focused; they were almost done. Later when she had time to herself, she’d let the emotions bother her. They moved silently back down a flight of stairs, but this one was dark, and the flashlight on the end of her gun was a thin stream that didn’t do much. The closer they moved to the bottom door, the clearer the snarling of the walkers became, but they hadn’t caught onto them yet. 

Two doors sat beside one another, and they each looked through one. 

“I can see the rooms.” Daryl said, and Rosie peered inside next to him. 

“Don’t see any walkers, must be closed off.” she mumbled, and wiggled the door knob- locked. She cursed under her breath. Daryl pulled his knife from his hip and started to stab it into various parts of the lock and handle while Rosie moved back to the other door to keep an eye on the walkers. A majority wandered around, but there was also ones piled up against the entrance, unmoving; they must have died long ago. It was a stark difference between newly turned ones a few years ago to then. Their skin looked like paper blowing on a branch the way it hung off their bones, and their clothes hung off their stick thin bodies. But their eyes were always peircing, and hypnotizing, almost. It was hard to imagine they were once people fighting to live like herself and Daryl were. That until their last breath, they were probably thinking the same thing. 

But then Rosie’s eyes drifted over, and fell on the remains of an adult huddled over a child, holding them like she did her own children when they’d crawl into her bed after a nightmare. She backed up. 

Her children's screams filled her head, and the images of them invaded her heart. 

She pinched her eyes shut and shook her head. Not now, she told herself. 

And against every voice in her head telling her not to, she looked back out the small window of the door. Why couldn’t she pull her eyes away? Why couldn’t she stop picturing herself there laying on the ground, wrapped around her son or daughter? 

“Rosie!” Daryl hissed, and she snapped back to reality where he was shaking her shoulder and holding the door open now. She followed him into the abandoned ER. The low haze of years passing untouched by anyone clouded their lungs, and the dust kicked up everywhere when they walked down the marble floor. To either side, it was wrecked, just like everywhere else. But there were small body bags filled and children in beds with bloody sheets pulled over their heads. No nurses, no doctors, no signs of families saying their last goodbyes. This must have been where they were euthanized.

She felt choked, and the sights before her only grew into greater piles. Her hand hung loose around her gun and she puffed air, almost in disbelief of what she was seeing. Daryl squeezed her arm. They rounded a corner, and down the long hall of curtained rooms on both sides was the front counter and entrance where the older bodies were piled up- and then it clicked in her head. 

Slowly she moved down the row of beds and curtains and into the lone beam of sunshine filtering in through the door with bodies piled on the other side. She could see the bullet holes covering them and cracking the doors, and she sighed. Daryl came up behind her, also observing the bodies but not understanding what she did. “Those are the parents. They tried to get in with their kids but were gunned down.” she said faintly, unwilling to admit it out loud. 

“This why you been upset since we got here?” he asked, and she looked at him. 

“It’s the sheets.” her voice cracked again. The memories had been following her all around the hospital- laying before her like the bodies she had to step over, and leave behind again. He moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in, resting his chin on her head. 

“Y’alright to finish?” he asked, and she nodded, patting his chest. 

“The sooner we get done the better.” she told him. That’s his girl. 

It was back to scavenging after he bumped his knuckles against her chin, but trying to reach the pharmacy would mean trying to push and stab their way through the walkers outside. There were carts with medicine locked inside, but without an ID, prying them open was a task. Enough was inside the first one she fought with to keep her satisfied and avoid the second, and moved to rifling through the bedside carts. Lots of hemostats and stitching kits, some creams and blood draw kits also. Any unused baby blankets and pediatric supplies she snagged. Hopefully she’d never have to use the small butterfly needles accompanied with the miniature fluid bags, but it’s better to be prepared than absent in a dilemma. 

Rosie found Daryl grabbing anything he could from the larger supply cart at the entrance they came through, and watched him as he stuffed it all into his backpack. She picked up the long swabs he dropped, and chuckled. “Swabs for MRSA?” she asked, and he shrugged. 

“Why not?” he asked. She tossed it aside. They could do without one untestable test. Her feet took her down a hall hidden behind large, hung tarps, and to a set of doors that were heavily barricaded. She wiggled the nobs, listening to the chains rattle on the other side. She tried to see through the dust and darkness, but could only see shadowed countertops and shelves- old computers and rows of objects. Either way, they weren't getting in. With an angry sigh, she gave the doors one more shove and wandered back to Daryl. 

“Rosie- Daryl? How’s it going?” Rick’s voice came from the walkie, and she picked it up. 

“About ready to head out- pharmacy is blocked off. How’s it look in front?” she asked. 

“They’re piling up fast. Best bet is finding a way out in back and hiking it along a back road.” he replied, and she looked at Daryl. “Good to go?” she asked him, and he nodded. 

“We’re heading out now- see you soon.” she told Rick, clipping the walkie back on her hip. 

They rounded a few more curtains, picking off the last of any medical supplies they could find on their way to an emergency exit at the farthest end of the emergency room. Daryl kicked the door open when it stuck, but all they found was the warehouse filled with ambulances, still in pristine condition. Rosie grinned. 

“Holy shit.” she exhaled, walking to one and running her hand across the backwards letters on the hood. 

“Anything gonna be in these?” he asked, walking to a separate one and opening the back gates. 

“Yeah- the obstetric kits and glucometers I can use for Maggie.” she trailed off, staring into the vehicle. “Found band-aids.” he called back, and she snickered. 

Temptation pushed her to walk to the driver's side and open the door, but paused a moment before climbing in. The keys were likely on the body of whomever last drove it. The controls probably wouldn’t work, but she still closed the door and buckled herself in. Her hand reached under the seat to adjust it- she liked the steering wheel sitting under her wrist, not close to her stomach. 

“Tempting.” she mumbled, her fingers passing over the siren and lights. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she pressed the brake to put it in drive. It was like being on graveyard shift and having an everyday R4 called in, or the dangerous R22’s. Either or, shifting into that mode became second nature. Daryl finished tearing apart the back of the ambulance she sat in, and crawled forward to sit in the seat beside her, throwing his backpack and crossbow down at his feet. 

She looked calm now, not bothered by the hair sticking to her neck or the bodies strewn about the hospital. 

“This how you look when yer workin’?” he asked, and she grinned at him. 

“Can’t get too invested in a job like this.” she said, showing him a glimpse of the steely, cold expression she carried when arriving on a call at three A.M.; when cops were surrounding streets and families were wailing on the sidewalks. That was new- he’d seen her warmth, and seen her dangerous glares when she was angry. But that blank face was a bit unsettling. Not even when they first met did she have that mask on. 

“Why’d you wanna be a paramedic?” he asked, placing his feet up on the dashboard.

Rosie slid her hands down the steering wheel and into her lap, her eyes landing on his. Her breath shook in her chest where the flashback crawled up her throat like vomit, but staring into his peaceful blues helped steady her heart that jumped.

“When I was thirteen my mom died. She stopped breathing that morning out of nowhere- only a few minutes after my dad had woke her up for work. I don’t remember much about the morning, but I remember my dad crying and the paramedics trying to revive her for forty-five minutes even though she was already cold and blue by the time they got there.” Rosie told him, kneading her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I remember the combitubes, and the compression board, the needles… And that they kept going and didn’t stop until my grandma made them. They didn’t just leave afterwards, either. They stayed and waited for other family to come and take care of us.” Rosie paused to look at him. “I wanted to help people like they did. Without us, doctors wouldn’t have patients to save when they get to the hospital.” she joked, her smile sad. 

“Hard job?” he asked, hoping to veer away from that dark memory- too much to recall in one day. “Could be. Y’know after all the walkers I’ve killed and shit I’ve seen, dealing with human cruelty is still the worst.” she admitted. “I witnessed some truly horrible things that people did to one another over things that should’ve been resolved with a handshake, or never brought up at all.”

“Don’t surprise me. Humans always been bad. Now they jus’ have an excuse to be worse.” he said, and she nodded. 

“Miss it?” he added. 

Rosie gave him a guilty smile. 

“Best job I ever had besides being a mom.” she said, taking another look around the cab. Rosie kept her eyes on him, and he cocked an eyebrow when she chuckled. 

“What?” 

“Imagine if I'd been one of the paramedics to come after one of your brawls with your brother.” She stated, and he thought on it, wondering how it would've been if their romance would've started beforehand. That thought had come to mind before, but never a scenario of seein her on the job.

“Prolly sober up real quick with you givin’ me looks like that.” He said, his voice low. He nibbled on his thumb nail, his eyes running across her.

“Would've been hard doin’ my job with you givin’ me looks like that.” She repeated. Daryl turned to look at her, watching the heat of her eyes change before him. 

“You would’a been mad if I asked for your number?” He asked, moving his arm rest up. “E’en with a bloody face?”

Rosie turned her knees towards him. 

“I would've left you to bleed if you didn't.” 

“What about your husband?” He asked, leaning towards her and unbuckling her seat belt. Rosie leaned in, her curls falling around her cheeks. His arms shot under her knees and he gripped her thighs, pulling her to the edge of her seat. “What husband?” She asked quietly, followed by a featherlight kiss, then another, and one that had her hands gripping his vest as his mouth claimed hers hungrily. Daryl groaned, still leaning in her direction as he made quick work of unclamping the heavy gun holster around his hips and dropping it with a loud thunk by his feet. 

He helped yank Rosie’s boots off, but before anything else, she pulled the walkie from her hip. 

“Hey Rick- we found the cafeteria. We're gonna take a look around then bounce-,” but she cut the line early and dropped it, trying to stifle a chuckle when he was already peeling her jeans and panties off her legs roughly. Daryl sighed when she crawled into his lap and pushed him back against the seat, her mouth claiming his for a harsh kiss as her fingers nearly ripped open his jeans. 

“Eager beaver?” he mumbled past her mouth. Rosie laughed when he almost bucked her off- his hips springing upwards as he shoved his pants down. “Shut up.” she snapped, leaning forward to let him in. 

Rough hands grabbed her ass, squeezing when she crossed her arms behind his neck and rocked back and forth, up and down. He kissed her sparingly, often having to detach when he moaned or felt the need to kiss her neck when she craned backwards.

“This one-,” a kiss, “of th’perks a bein’-,” she nibbled on his earlobe. “On the job?” he forced out, his head falling back against the seat again, forcing open his eyes. “Only f’you were a dirty redneck with a heart a’gold.” she moaned, leaning back against him. Her shirt followed when his hands ran up her back, his fingers dipping into the curve of the muscles along her spine.

She grabbed his shoulders to steady herself when he reclined the seat, and moaned in satisfaction when he slipped farther into her. “How many a those you run into?” he asked, a deeper growl than normal. 

Rosie planted her knees against the seat and ground her hips against his as she leaned over him, her mouth a whisper from his as he exhaled slowly. 

“Just one I really liked.” she said, licking his lips to tempt his tongue out. His hands grabbed her hips harshly as he rutted into her, and he watched in awe as she arched, clinging to him with a sharp gasp. She yelled, and begged, sometimes singing ‘right there, right there, don’t stop’.

He'd also slow, looking down to watch himself slide in and out of her as he'd pull her down on him, noting how there was the slightest twist of her hips every time he pushed back in. That’s when she’d hold his face so he’d look at her. She wanted to see how he felt- the way his mouth hung open in gasping groans and his eyes struggled to stay open. Rosie would pant I love you’s until her body rolled of its own accord, or grip the paneling above her, trying to keep herself from floating away. With hands like vices on her hips pulling her down, Daryl fucked her until she was breathless- until her voice broke from screaming, so loud he had to hold his hand over her mouth as she clung to him, with legs shaking beside him until he was smothering his own shouts against her skin when he felt the orgasm rip through him. 

 

He grabbed her hands to help her out of the cab of the ambulance, then searching for his shirt and vest as she pulled her boots back on. 

But when she reached back over the seat to grab her walkie, she spotted an old and discarded paramedics shirt between the seats. They'd probably laid over it, otherwise she would've spotted the familiar blue.

It was dusty and had blood stains covering it, but she still took it with her as she leaned back, and ran her fingers over the embroidered name: Bustos. He held her bag and gun as she slipped it on over her tank-top, rolling the short sleeves up a little farther. A few sizes too big, but comfortable. She patted her sides down, and slipped her backpack back on. It felt good. 

“Ready?” he asked. She nodded, her cheeks a little flushed. An unnecessary addition to her sparse wardrobe, but she felt sound. He was alright with it all. Patience had gifted him since Rosie came swinging into his life.

The shuffling behind the metal warehouse door was faint, as were the snarls, but it didn’t mean there were few walkers outside. With no way to look out, they’d be taking a bet running into what ever number was there. Neither had seen what was beyond the pile of walkers and drifters when they were in the ER- they had to make a quick decision. 

Rosie backed up and tightened the straps for her pack, and wrapped the strap of the M-16 around her forearm. 

“Set?” he asked with his hands on the chains to pull the door up. 

She nodded, taking aim. “Vamonos.”

The door flew up with a loud clatter, and the scope of the problem before them was presented. They hadn’t seen the parking lot before the ER entrance, or the mob of walkers on either side crowding it. Only a moment passed for them to sigh angrily, and then it was moving in organized fashion between the grabbing hands. 

They swiveled around each other, back to back, and always watching their sides as Rosie took careful shots and Daryl resorted to the handgun he’d pulled from his belt. When one lagged behind in concentration of some lurkers getting too close, the other would grab their shoulder and bring them back close; it’d be impossible to make it out if they split up. Now that they were moving at a slow pace and using extra energy to shove walkers away, Rosie was tempted to hightail it back to the ambulance and run them down, but they were approaching the middle of the parking lot where some cars were still sitting, and now they could see the chain linked fence that was holding them all in. 

“We’ave to get over it!” Daryl yelled, barely missing the broken teeth of a walker lunging at him. Rosie kicked its chest and sprayed a line of fire in front of them, bringing down a few, but there was always more behind them. Rosie shot a look to the fence. 

“There’s barbed wire on top!” she yelled at him. 

“I can cut it!” he said, simultaneously pushing back a couple walkers that had tried pushing over his bow. 

As Rosie continued to shoot, the kickback started to aggravate her bad shoulder, and her aim started to falter. She growled past it, but it was starting to also affect her ability to push them back when they were too close. She kicked, and dodged, but the longer she forced her arm into use, the more it rang with pain and started to become limp. There was no time to splint it though, and they were nearly to the fence! With a muffled groan, she rested the handguard in the crook of her arm and continued firing, moving backwards when Daryl tugged on her backpack. 

A patch opened up and they bolted for the fence. “Cut it!” she yelled, blocking him from the walkers with more firing. Daryl hurried to yank the bolt cutters from his backpack and start cutting an opening in the fence, looking back often to gage how close the walkers were getting. He’d seen Rosie struggling with the gun and it rested awkwardly in her arm, but he trusted in her enough to keep him covered. The fence was old and rusted, making it easier to snap through them, but it was the process of moving down the line with frazzled movements that made it seem so slow. 

“Daryl?” she urgently called, her arm starting to go numb and the sweat dripping into her eyes compromising her vision. They were almost upon them, and even the ones she’d shot at the knees to trip the walking ones were gaining on them. 

Only a few more- 

“C’mon!” Daryl yelled, yanking the fencing apart and ushering her through. She shoved through, trying to move fast but the fence sliced against her shoulders and caught on her backpack. 

He gave her a rough shove to get her through, and she spun on her feet to grab his crossbow so he could climb through easier than she did. But then he was grabbing her hand and running across the rest of the parking lot that had barely any walkers in it, and towards the street that divided the hospital with residential homes. They had to get distance between them and the walkers filing out of the fence- it was amazing how fast they could gain on them at a shamble, and how long they could keep up on a trail. 

Leading her through winding backyards and back roads, they eventually made it to a small town. Abandoned, of course, but he still kept his bow raised as they ran down the street. She clung to her gun, pressing it into her chest with her arm; her hand was numb and she couldn’t grip it to save her life if needed. 

Daryl pulled her behind an old bakery, and pushed her up and onto the crates lining a wooden fence around it. With heavy legs she crawled up, and rolled over the top of the fence to land soundly on her feet. She grabbed their bags and moved back against the wall to let him over, both of them lowering to sit, and waiting nervously as hands scraped against the fence, trying to pry their faces between the loose boards. They both kept their weapons poised to fire, struggling to steady their heavy breaths. Rosie pressed against him, sometimes looking around the edge of the doorway that led to the backyard they hid in, but Daryl was calm and steady, patting her knee when she got too jittery.

 

“How’s it look?” he asked her, and she stood straight, carefully observing the area outside the fencing. 

“Look’s like we can finally split.” she told him, still keeping her voice low. Daryl lifted her by the foot higher, and she swung a leg over to sit atop the fence as he handed her their backpacks. 

“Watch that arm.” he told her, keeping her steady with a hand on her thigh. 

“I’m good.” she grunted, struggling to keep herself balanced with her bad arm again in a makeshift sling made from the paramedics shirt she grabbed. After the bags came Daryl’s crossbow, and then herself as she stood on a swivel until he was over the fence and by her side. 

“I can take that.” she told him, having the bag snatched from her hand and slung over his shoulder. 

“I know.” he told her, carrying both bags and his bow. Rosie frowned at first, but couldn’t help grin in the end, walking by him as they made their way back to Rick. “I’m serious- I can carry it.” she added, but he only walked, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. 

 

A Few Hours Later…

 

Daryl’s eyes looked at her when she sighed, and his lips moved from her shoulder so he could rest his chin there. He could see it in her posture, and the quiet of her words when she responded despondently to him; something was off.

“Today was too much for ya.” he said quietly against her skin, and she leaned towards him. Rosie shook her head- she wanted to deny it and keep her solid as steel demeanor, but the truth was having seen it all had drained her.

“S’not just that.” she told him, fiddling with the grass between her legs. He rested his scruffy chin back on her shoulder, waiting. 

“I kinda don't wanna leave- I'm tired of being on the move. Maybe I got too used to being settled in Alexandria. Or maybe it's just today- I don't know. I'm just tired I think..” Rosie rambled, leaning back against his chest. Now he rested his face on the back of her neck, her curls smothering his face as his hand moved to stroke up and down her side. “Little bodies reminded me of them.” She added quietly. 

“Don’t beat yerself up ‘bout it.” he offered. 

Only a nod, but the day would come when she would have to deal head on with her past so it didn't haunt her so heavily. Her eyes fell down to her fingers that had absentmindedly started to play with the twine around his ankles. Rosie squinted, rubbing her fingers over the material. 

“I didn’t notice these are shoelaces.” she said, tugging at a knot. 

“Beth’s.” he only said. 

“Really?” 

He nodded. Rosie turned to stare at him, studying the narrow eyes hidden behind all his hair, and the scruff that shadowed his thin face. 

“Why don’t you let onto how caring you really are?” she asked, but he shrugged before saying, “Beat down ‘till I stayed quiet when I was little ‘n then never thought to speak up much ‘less I was angry. Spent a lot of time with Beth openin’ up but then she died. Carol ran away. Gets tiring, I s’pose.”

“But you did with me.” Rosie said. 

“You’re diff’rent.”

“How?”

“You didn’ give me any choice.” 

Rosie laughed. “You’re a good guy. You’d make a good father.” she said with confidence, giving his thigh a few sturdy pats. His fidgeted- he’d never been told such a thing. 

“Ya think?” he asked, a little flustered when his voice cracked. 

“I know so.” she told him, returning to spinning the long grass. His eyes drifted from her hands to the shoelaces on his legs.

“I would’a like to see you with Benecio and Stella. Think seein’ you as a mom would’a complete this whole thing.” he told her, and Rosie looked at him with wonder in her eyes.

“Complete?” she asked. 

“Sometimes you stare off- can’t figure out where ya went. You don’t really come back when y’do that. I think yer lookin’ for yer kids in here,” he paused to curl his arm around her splinted shoulder and pat her heart. “But only some of you comes back.”

Rosie turned between his legs and rested her cheek in her good hand to look at him. 

“You don’t miss anything, do you?” she asked, and he shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. 

“You’re right. Part of me didn’t come with when I left them, but I think it was the same pieces of me I gained when I first had them. Guess it makes sense it stays behind to watch over them.”

Daryl stared at her. Amazed he was at her strength, and devotion, and will to keep going forward. If there already weren’t enough reasons to love her, they continued to pile on day by day.

“I’m still here.” she said, grabbing his hand. Daryl curled his fingers around hers. 

“Yeah you are.”

 

 

Fog was still lingering in the trees when her eyes opened, and the air was still cold. Wouldn’t last long, but she’d take what she could get. 

The saliva accumulated in her mouth and that annoying kick of nausea she’d had following her for a while made itself known, except this time, it was strong. It crawled up her throat and made her sit up suddenly. Rosie looked around as she swallowed repeatedly. No walkers, so it couldn’t be the smell of rotting flesh. No nothing, really. Just the group. 

She took a few deep breaths and it started to subside. As she laid down, Daryl rolled on his side facing her and draped an arm around her waist. 

“Y’alrigh’?” he asked half asleep, and she only groaned. She’d sleep a bit more-

Or not. 

This time it had her scrambling to hoist her chest over the side of the truck bed and vomiting stomach bile that burned her nose and tasted vile. She coughed and spit the last of it out, blowing some from her nose. 

“God damn.” Daryl said, by her side and holding her hair back. Rosie rested her head against her arm and went limp. 

“Looks like that bug is in full swing.” she mumbled, feeling around herself for the water until he handed it to her. 

“Everything okay?” Glenn asked, walking from behind the truck. 

Rosie only gave him a weak thumbs up. 

“Been a while this been goin’ on. Hope it’s not suddenly gettin’ worse right when we’re about t’leave.” Daryl said, sitting back when she did. Rosie shrugged and wiped her mouth on her shirt. “Could be a parasite.” she barely whispered, and he scoffed. 

“Survived all this time ‘n the thing to take ya out is a damn worm.” he teased, and she pushed on his shoulder before he crawled off the lip of the truck. “Buckle.” she said. It was still undone from the previous night they spent huddled together in the bed of the truck, away from any eyes that might've still been star gazing. Some days he just couldn't get his fill of her in one round. He gave her a funny look before wandering off. The group was up soon after them, readying their belongings and checking their cars in preparation of the long drive ahead of them. To Rosie’s dismay though, the nausea stuck, and made any sort of participation in the overall cheery mood of the others or preparing difficult. Often she’d lean against something and take deep breaths, trying to push down the queeziness that inched up her throat. 

After she had finished helping Carl wind the twine and hubcaps from around their small camp, her eyes found Daryl standing at the edge of the road, and his back turned to her. He was unmoving, and obviously in deep thought as he stared at a walker crawling across the road. It's legs were mangled and twisted, probably someone who'd ended up being a snack and left for dead. When she approached him, he didn’t turn to her until she had her hand rested on his shoulder. 

“You alright?” she asked. Although he nodded, his eyes that shot down to his hands rolling a cigarette were… off. Too narrow, like he was trying to hide emotions that would easily be seen if he looked at her. She moved to look at him more, but he looked away. With a soft smack on his arm, he grumbled. 

“I was hopin’ we’d eventually find her ‘n she’d come with us.” he finally confessed. 

A common concern of his that she couldn’t quite calm. “What if one day she’s walkin’ with them?” he asked quietly, not wanting to even imagine it. Rosie shook her head.

“Nah. I think she got far away from all of this. I think she found what she was looking for.” she told him, and it was what she truly believed. Carol was strong, and unafraid, and could undoubtedly take care of herself. There was always the possibility that they could in fact see her one day in the form of snapping jaws and gouging hands, but she wouldn’t feed that fear in him.

“What if she’s fightin’ the battle we left behind?” he asked. Rosie smiled. 

“Is there any doubt in your mind that she wouldn’t win?” she asked, and he half-grinned. 

“Ready then?” Daryl asked her, curling an arm around her neck after he’d lit his smoke and turned to walk back to the others, eventually leaning towards her so she could pluck the cigarette from his mouth and into her own. 

The packing up was done quickly, and in under a thirty minute time frame, they were all pulling back into the lonely road and following the line across old maps taped together, with routes chosen meticulously. They favored back roads when possible and avoided main highways unless they crossed through farms or woods. When they’d see a town or store worth looking into they would stop, and even though their long journey had just begun, Rosie was questioning if she could even make it halfway at the rate her nausea and fatigue was plaguing her. With the sun beating against her back, she’d press her face against Daryl's back and try to not think of the heat. She couldn’t ask to stop every time she felt like hurling her empty stomach. 

A few hours into their road trip, Glenn’s eye caught a pharmacy sitting on the outskirts of a rural town, littered with old trash and burned cars, but the buildings and homes around it still seemed to be in decent condition. Rosie sighed in relief when they all stopped. All the twists and turns of the road were driving her crazy despite the open wind of the motorcycle keeping her relatively cool. 

She nearly jumped off the bike and ran into Abraham’s car in her haste to make it to a bush so she could heave. 

“Well good thing the pharmacy is there.” Sasha mumbled, handing her a water bottle. More coughing and blowing the vomit from her nose. 

She diligently wrote ‘mouthwash’ in her notes in the back of her mind. 

“Wanna hang back while we clear it?” Daryl asked, deciding to step forward once she’d rinsed her face and collected herself. With water sloshing in her mouth she shook her head, and spit. 

“Nope, I’m good.” she said, avoiding eye contact with everyone else on her way back to the bike to grab her bat; she was embarrassed. He thought to argue it, but knowing that once her mind was set on something she wouldn’t budge, he’d wait for her to opt out on her own. But still, even with sweat coating her and her skin a lighter shade, she tapped her bat against the door of the pharmacy and waited, her body stiff with concentration. 

No snarling or shuffling from inside came. With that, Daryl nodded to Rick and the rest of them moved in separate directions to loot the other stores and homes. 

It was small inside- probably had been a single owned business for locals, but the shelves held what any other chain would. Rosie scanned and grabbed, kicking aside dusty boxes on the ground as Daryl followed around, picking what he knew and wanted. He grabbed a familiar pink bottle, and when he noted it hadn’t expired yet, he handed it over to Rosie. 

“Might help.” he said, curving around another isle. She snickered. 

“Maybe.” she said, stuffing it into her bag. Her hand slid along a shelf where the products had been mostly untouched; condoms…

Daryl looked at her- she was looking a little better. “What if it’s somethin’ bad?” he asked, and she shrugged. Her hand grabbed a few boxes of tampons. 

“I don’t know what would count as ba-,” but she stopped the moment her hand landed on the thin rectangular boxes at the end, before the isle ended and lead onto a small section for babies. She stared, and felt her heart thump a little harder in her chest. Why had it never occurred to her, let alone the possibility of it happening coming to mind months ago? 

When she stopped short, Daryl rounded the corner and followed her line of sight, but took a step back, not expecting the mere eyeshot of a pregnancy test in her hand to cause such a stir in his body. Finally she looked at him, but looked just as speechless as he. There were a million things they could’ve said, or done, but they only looked at the box for what felt like ages. 

“I didn’t-,” she was trying to say, but then they heard someone's feet approaching the door outside. But while Rosie spun to face them, Daryl had snatched the box from her hands and ripped it apart to pull the stick from inside and stuff it into her bag. Her stomach fluttered a bit, and the feeling she could now identify as fear rested some. Did this mean he was… okay?

“Hey, y’all ready? Town’s wasted.” Abraham asked, grinning when the saw the two standing by the condoms. 

“Almost.” Rosie croaked, and he walked out, chuckling. 

Hesitantly she looked back at him. But he looked… so calm, and his eyes appeared to be more open than usual. 

“Y’should take it.” he only said, nodding at his own words. 

“Now?” she asked.

“Later.”

Rosie nodded and watched as he went back to other shelves, and went to her own. The fact he wasn’t screaming and tossing a fit made her feel better, but his reaction also unsettled her. Was he in shock? 

She grabbed vitamins and some supplies, but slowly her hands stilled, and somehow made it to her own stomach where she stopped to just hold them there. Those horrible thoughts and strangely excited feelings would eat her alive until she knew for sure, but it was already taking place. It happened to most women who questioned if they were pregnant. A bond started to form with the potential, fluttering life inside her, that they had unintentionally came together and made. But she couldn’t get too attached yet- if it wasn’t what it could be, she couldn’t risk being too let down and having Daryl see that she would’ve been all in for having the baby. 

But then… she remembered, and felt, and the good was gone. 

What was she doing bringing another child into her life when she couldn’t keep the first two safe?

He saw her pausing to most likely collect her emotions, but he was finding that himself was almost impossible. He couldn’t stop seeing visions of her stomach expanding with pregnancy and imagining how her screams would attract walkers if or when she went into labor. It was wrong- it was a horrible idea, a mistake they’d made. He didn’t know anything about being a father; he still struggled to just be a boyfriend... Or lover, whatever they were. There’d be food and clothing and extra protection for God knows how long this horrible point in time for mankind would drag out for. But although Daryl could list every reason that having a baby would be dangerous and impossible, he couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach, or the commotion in his heart when he wondered what their little one would look like. It seeped into the cracks of his mind where darker thoughts always lay, but he couldn’t let emotion rule this decision. 

She had to take that test- but then what? If she was, there would be nothing they could do about it. 

Daryl’s hands stilled when he grabbed for a bottle, and he felt a new worry grip at his already conflicted mind. What if she died like Lori? 

Rosie was just turning to find him when she almost bumped into his chest, and felt her stomach drop. He looked distressed. 

“Take it now.” he said, his gravely voice low. 

“We need to go.” she argued, walking past him. “We need to know!” he snapped, grabbing her arm. 

Rosie sighed. “Next stop, I promise I’ll take it.” she said, but he was still unsatisfied. Was there any words she could offer for comfort? Probably not- she couldn’t even calm her own storm. They just looked at one another. 

“We can’t.” he finally said.

There was no cruelty behind his words, but they still stung. She was already attached, turned out. He could see the immediate impact of his words by the way her hands moved to fidget in front of her stomach, but he had to tell her. But Rosie turned and walked to the door instead of responding. 

 

 

It was a quiet night, only the cracking of the fire and maybe someone yawning or shifting on the leaves they sat on under the canopy of trees. It had been a long day driving in the heat, and felt even longer after their stop at the pharmacy. Besides small exchanges of words that mostly pertained to each others overall well being, Rosie and Daryl hadn’t talked much. There wasn’t much left to help as a distraction after a bombshell like that. It was awkward- she hated it.

And the entire time they’d been sat around the fire, he’d stared at her from across it, trying to convey to her with glances towards the trees to take the test. But she hesitated. Either way, she had to mentally prepare herself to be let down, or to be a mom again. Terrifying, either way. Anytime she’d shift, Daryl would stiffen, waiting for her to get up. But when she didn’t he’d always rub his face in anxiety. The suspense was killing him. It was all he’d thought of that day. It’d choked down words he wanted to say to her to fix his earlier statement, and faltered his usually confident movements. If this was what being a father felt like, he didn’t want it. 

But Rosie wanted to bask in it a little longer. If she wasn’t pregnant, she wanted that blind love she hadn’t felt in years to hold her close before she was let down. Soon she’d slink off, when Daryl’s annoying fidgeting and strange glares bothered her too much, but for now, with her arms crossed over her stomach, she’d laze. Just a little longer. 

 

It had been a while since he moved, or opened his eyes. He could be sleeping, but he could also be trying to trick her into sneaking away. He was a hunter- he was good at playing the waiting game.

But she wouldn’t admit that. It’s because I have to pee, she told herself. 

Most of the group had fallen asleep, so grabbing her bag to relieve herself wouldn’t be met with questions. She was diligent about walking over the leaves- if he was sleeping, she wanted to keep it that way. This moment was hers, and giving him the answer would only come after that. She snapped branches to lead her back through the dark woods, but every time she lifted her hands, they shook. It wasn’t the cool night, it was the anticipation. Now that the moment was before her, the roiling in her stomach was getting worse; butterflies she couldn’t control. After a few minutes of walking and checking over her shoulder about thirty times, she pulled the stick from her bag and dropped her pants. 

Once the deed was done, she hastily capped it, and placed it flat on a rock to walk away while buckling her jeans. From about ten feet away she stared at it, willing it to burst into flames, honestly. But it just sat there, egging her on. It felt like three minutes had passed, but realistically it was probably only thirty seconds that had dragged by. Rosie grumbled with her hands typing up her curls roughly and opted to do laps around the trees surrounding the rock, watching for anyone to accidentally stumble upon her. 

Thirteen. She did thirteen laps that had her panting when she’d found walking them was also too slow. Was that long enough? It didn’t matter. She ran over to the test, but before she could read it, she clutched it to her chest. Breathing was more of a struggle, and her legs felt weak. 

“I’ve got to know.” she whispered, and looked down at it. 

Two very bold pink lines looked back up at her. The air was suddenly expelled from her lungs, and she held a hand against her forehead when her world started to shake. But she couldn’t calm- her body felt tingly and her mind was racing. A wide smile splayed across her lips… but there was also tears pooling in her eyes. And was she laughing? 

Why am I laughing? 

But then her body shook, and she was sobbing softly. Such a torrent of emotions overcame her at once, and it cut her down to her knees. With the positive pregnancy test again pressed against her chest, she cried, her own hand muffling herself. And with her head hung down, she cried for the life her and Daryl accidentally bloomed. How badly she wanted to tell him, and apologize, and also rejoice in the fact that she was pregnant. 

“Rosie?” Daryl’s voice startled her, and she stood in time to see him walking to her with concern in his eyes. He’d found her on the ground, sobbing, and thought she’d been hurt, but once he saw the test in her hands, it was clear. He stopped before reaching her, unsure of what to do. 

“Are you-?” he tried to ask, but back down she went to her knees, her voice barely a whisper as she answered: 

“Yes.”

 

No more tears, no more crying. Now, she just felt it. It couldn’t be pinned to one emotion exactly, it just… she just felt. Daryl had repeated her answer back to himself multiple times; it didn’t sit right the first few, and even now that the two sat side by side after incoherent questions and sobbing answers, it felt like a shirt that was too tight around his neck. 

He held the test in his fingers, angling it so what little light filtered in through the night trees revealed the two lines clearly. He couldn’t stop looking. Whether it was disbelief or pure amazement, it kept his eyes from straying away. 

Rosie looked at him, and how he was shaking it gently in his hands. She exhaled. 

“It’s not a magic-8 ball, you can't change the answer.” she mumbled. He glared at her, a little irked. 

“I know that.” he snapped, dropping it between them and resting his arms atop his knees. She watched him, unable to see any difference from his usual movements, but his thoughts were a mystery. 

“What ar’you thinking?” she asked softly. 

Daryl looked up from his hands, but not at her. It was hard, but she waited instead of asking again. Long pauses like these meant he was choosing his words carefully. 

“All day I’ve been scared shitless tryin’ to figure out how we’d raise a kid. Every scream and minute now is more’ve a risk.” he told her, giving the space before them a once over. “But I’m also relieved. Now we know what we gotta do.” he finished, nodding slowly, and finally looking at her. She looked tired, and he felt it, but there was sharp concentration in her swollen eyes. 

“It’s a lot though. I never saw myself havin’ kids, especially with the kinda upbringin’ I had- don’t think I’d be good to raise my own.” he said, and scoffed.

“My dad used to say ‘neglect fosters self-reliance’. Wasn’t he right?” he asked her. She smirked at him. 

“You’re not gonna scare me off. I know you can be a good dad.” she said sternly. He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I was aimin’ to do.” He said sourly, leaning away from her. 

“Those are the kind of thoughts that’ll drive you nuts, Daryl. You can’t think like that.” she offered, and his eyes shot back to hers. 

“Expect me to just forget my past? Be a shinin’ example of a father?” he barked. 

“Nope- but if you think into it too much I bet you'll be walking in his footsteps whether you realize it or not.” she said without skipping a beat. 

Daryl moved to glare at her, a little perplexed at her words. 

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” he asked harshly, and in a blur, she had gotten to her feet and started stomping away. 

“Rose- Rosie, what the hell?” He hissed, standing to walk after her. “You're not listening to me.” She said, crunching over the leaves and debris. 

“‘Cause you're sayin’ shit that don't need to be said-,”

Rosie spun on her feet, her hands pushing him back against a tree that nearly knocked the wind from him. She balled her fists into his vest and held him steady, her angry eyes keeping his from trailing away. 

“You need to listen to me now. You need to shut off your brain long enough to let my words sink in because after this, you’re making your decision.” she started, still holding him steady. 

“Being a parent can be horrible. It’s tiring, and angering, and will literally push you to the brink of insanity sometimes, but it’s not impossible because once you see that baby, everything you thought you loved most is pushed to the back of the line. But if you go into this reading into everything your parents did and comparing yourself, you’ll undoubtedly fail, Daryl. I’ve seen it happen, and it eats you alive. You learned from your dad’s mistakes and your mom’s abandonment so you know what not to do- you know in your heart before even thinking about it- not for me, but the baby you had a hand in making just as much as I did. When I say you can be an amazing dad, I mean it. I’ve seen a lot of different sides of you, but not one part of me doubts that you can be the parent this baby needs to survive. If neglect really fosters self-reliance, than it happened to the right man. You lived, and you raised yourself into one of the bravest and most caring people I’ve ever known. You did that on your own. You’re who you are because you knew what was right and wrong.” she expressed, holding his attention. 

“You have it in you to do right by this baby, regardless of what happens to us. But there’s no half-assing it. I need you all in or to leave us the hell alone.” she finished, taking him off guard at the last part. 

Rosie had fought the lump in her chest as the spoke, and didn’t know if she’d later tell him that she was actually afraid he’d take her speech as an opportunity to slip away from them and leave her alone with their child. But she needed to say it. There couldn’t be anything left unsaid between them anymore- no more silent treatments or guessing each other's emotions. Being a parent was putting it all out on the table and sorting things out. 

Daryl’s eyes remained locked with hers, and she could see him trying to sort his emotions. It made her nervous, but she stood still, and waited. 

With a deep sigh, his hands lifted to rest at her sides. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m in.” he told her, his voice steady and calm. 

It hadn’t been intentional, but the sigh of relief she let out was loud and she couldn’t help but drop her head against his chest. “D’you really think I was gonna bail?” he asked. 

“No but it’s still just… suspenseful.” she told him, leaning back to look at him. He understood. 

His eyes cut down to her stomach, that at the moment was flat but soon would start showing. His thumbs tentatively swept across her stomach . “How far along you ‘spose you are?” he asked. Rosie bit the inside of her cheek.

“Month ‘n a half, give or take a week.” she guessed, scratching her head. Daryl’s eyebrows kicked up. 

“You were smokin’ n shit.” he blurted out, and she nodded with a blank expression. “No more.” she mumbled, resting her hands on his shoulders. Then they were back to gazing, and equally trying to gauge the other's thoughts.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” Daryl said. With a gentle hand on his cheek, she nodded.

“You are a dad.” 

 

 

“Well- I definitely don’t think you’re going into labor, but I think you’ve finally fallen victim to braxton hicks.” Rosie said after placing the stethoscope around her neck and helping Maggie to her feet. “Oh, joy.” Maggie groaned, holding her lower stomach. Glen sighed heavily, rubbing his face of the sweat he’d been pouring since first thinking Maggie had gone into labor.

“Long as they’re irregular you’re safe.” she added, chugging down some water to push back her nausea. 

“Ready to leave?” Daryl asked impatiently. 

“We’re gonna clear the stores.” Abraham answered first, and Daryl threw his hands up angrily and turned away. 

“Oh what?” she demanded. “He’s mad.” Michonne said this time, walking with Rick to a liquor store that was catty corner to where they were in the street. “About?” she inquired, opting to walk beside Maggie and Glenn who were on their way to check out a small market. 

“‘Cause this place looks like Woodbury.” Glenn said under his breath. 

The brief story of Daryl and Merle’s capture and their long battle with the rival group unfolded as they walked, and how the Governor was responsible for the demise of Hershel, Merle, and many others that used to inhabit their former oasis that was the prison. They told her if she wanted specifics, she’d have to challenge Daryl’s patience, but she thought it better not to ask at all.

Besides a few walkers that were down to skin and bones and crawling along the floor, the store was clean, and mostly empty to their dismay. They had food to last them on their journey, but a little more was never unwanted. But scanning the barren shelves only added to her irritation. It was like someone had intentionally taken food and products in good shape and trashed them so no one else would get their hands on them. Often she rolled her shoulders in annoyance; the heat and humidity were really doing a number on her tank tops that hung loose on her from sweat. 

“You okay?” Maggie asked when she rounded a shelf to find Rosie rubbing her eyes. She only grinned and nodded, grabbing a jar of what she didn’t even know. 

“You sure?” she asked again. 

“It’s just the heat- but I don’t wanna complain. You of all people don’t need to hear that. I know what it’s like to carry around those little heaters.” she joked, and then felt a little slap on the back of her neck when she reassured herself she was valid in feeling the same. Maggie chuckled, but then eyed Rosie curiously. 

“Do- have you- did you have children?” the expectant mother asked. Rosie stuttered- she hadn’t meant to open up such a can of worms, and in the end only nodded. Maggie opened her mouth to say something, but muffled yelling from outside caught their attention. 

“That’s your guy.” Glenn said quietly, walking up behind them. Rosie groaned, her body feeling a little more hot as she stomped her way outside, and dropped her bag swiftly so she could dart to Abraham and Daryl’s sides. 

“There’s no point in stayin’ in a town with nothin’ left of it.” Daryl snapped, glaring harshly as he stared down just as coldly. 

“That’s your own shit opinion- it’s nine to one so shut your mouth and help or get lost.”

“We should all be movin’ cause there ain’t shit here!” Daryl yelled now, taking a few steps closer to him.

“If you could use what’s left of your junkie brain then you’d know it’s smarter to walk away then try and intimidate me, boy!” 

They were nearly chest to chest now, and Rick was pulling Abraham back as Rosie pushed on Daryl’s chest just as his arm had cocked back to swing. Even as he was pushed backwards, he threw vicious insults around her and egged him on. It was all muddled shouting and insults for a few moments as Rick struggled to get a word in over them, but eventually Rosie had pushed him back far enough to where his words couldn’t reach him. 

“Daryl calm down!” Rosie yelled, pushing on his chest harshly. She’d had enough. 

“We shouldn’t’ve stayed in the first place.” He yelled at her. She was rubbing her eyes again. 

“Maggie needed a break.” she said flatly. He was rocking side to side, trying to keep a cap on his rage. 

“Sidin’ with him now?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Why you tellin’ me to?” he demanded, getting close to her again, but she shoved him back. “Do NOT fucking test me, Daryl. I already feel like shit and you throwin’ a fit doesn’t help.” she barked, but he got back in her face again. 

“I’m statin’ a fact- don’t tell me I’m throwin’ a fit-,” but she cut him off with a hand in the air, turning away from him. “Just save it. I get your stressed out but please try and stay level headed.” she grumbled, leaving him by the trees to cool off, but she heard him laugh sarcastically from behind. 

“This ain't stress- this is stupid!” He snapped, stepping after her. She hushed him with a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the shade before walking away again.

“All you moms in the group always slowin’ shit down.” he said quietly, but she still caught it. 

“Don’t forget I’m a mom cause you blew your load in me, you fucking moron!” she hissed. 

He couldn’t argue that, and instead spun to storm off into the trees. Rosie watched him leave before walking back to the others, wanting nothing more than to light a cigarette. She met up with Rick, looking equally annoyed and watching Daryl disappear into the trees. 

“He won’t be back for a while.” he said matter-of-factly, and she shook her head. 

“We’ll settle here for the night.” he decided, walking away to tell the others. Rosie dragged her feet back to Daryl’s bike, reaching for her bag but then pausing to rest her hand on the seat. She pursed her lips. I could push it over, she thought bitterly. 

 

He watched carefully, waiting for her to push the bike over. He tensed every time he saw her lean against it, or wiggle it to test its sturdiness. But eventually she moved away, helping the others park their cars in the alleys and choosing which building to hold up in for the night. He should’ve been helping, but he couldn’t find the strength past his own pride to return and show his face after causing a scene. He’d stay in the shadows a while, until everyone cooled down. Not to mention giving Rosie some time to reduce to a simmer before challenging her again. Going back now would surely end in his own demise. 

 

 

Occasionally she’d use the end of her bat to bonk the head of the walker reaching for her feet that dangled off the edge of the balcony, but simply swinging her feet proved to be entertaining enough. It had wandered up to her like a lost cat a while ago, and this one’s snarls weren’t as loud as usual, seeing as it’s jaw and throat were ripped out. Fatigue had kept her from climbing down the fire escape to take care of it, so she kept him preoccupied and away from the shuffling and hushed chattering inside. When it’d look away, she’d whistle and let it hook a finger around her boot, but the skinned, boney monster didn’t have enough strength to pull her any closer. It was the only thing to keep her occupied that night, and didn’t require any more energy than what she had left. She rested her cheek against the railing; already the nugget in her belly was draining her resources. 

A familiar arrow pierced it’s head when she reached down to push its head with her bat, making her jump. She watched it fall into a puddle, and leaned back to spot Daryl walking down the middle of the street, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. With a sigh she stood, placing her bat under arm before climbing down. But she moved to the walker instead, holding its head still with her boot to yank the arrow out. Then she waited, staring at his dark form walking to her until he was before her, looking silently down at her. 

“You’ve been close?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“Watched you harass that geek for a while.” he said, and she grinned. “Nothing else to do.” she said, handing him his arrow. 

With a cocked head to the side she stared at him, as he did to her. Things needed to be said, but neither wanted to go first. 

“You mad?” he mumbled. Rosie nodded, and then he did. “Tired?” he added. Another nod. 

“Go get some rest- I’ll take watch.” he said. But she didn’t move, only kept staring. 

“What?” he blurted out, expecting her to demand an apology.

“Ever talk to me like that again, and I’ll rip your tongue out and keep it in a jar.” she said smoothly, swinging her bat in hand and turning to walk into the building. Before she disappeared, he heard her mumble, “Asshole.”, but Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle, and shake his head before heading up the fire escape to sit where she once did. 

 

 

With a cheek full of food, she flipped the pages against her fingers, stopping on paragraphs she’d marked. But it was tricky to read by fire light, and she found herself squinting, and shifting against the wall she sat against to better see her pages. Daryl gave her a grunt, readjusting his head on her lap and flipping onto his back. “Oh shush- found it!” she said, putting her food down and leaning forward to better see it. 

“I don’t know what living a balanced life feels like- when I am sad, I don’t cry, I pour. When I am happy, I don’t smile, I glow. When I am angry, I don’t yell, I burn. The good thing about feeling extremes is when I love, I give them wings. But perhaps that isn’t such a good thing cause they always tend to leave and you should see me when my heart is broken. I don’t grieve, I shatter.” she recited, running her fingers down the moth eaten page. 

“Sound ‘lot like you.” Daryl said under his breath. “Tongue in a jar.” she said whimsically, flipping the pages again. 

“That’s my favorite, I think.” RIck said, still patting Judith’s back even though she’d fallen asleep a while ago. “I think so, too.” she replied, and Daryl snorted. 

“What about the other fifty?” he asked, and she rested her book against his forehead roughly, making him jump. “Tongue in a jar.” she said again. He glared up at her, but she only gave him a crooked grin.

“So we leavin’ tomorrow?” Daryl said outloud, crossing his arms. 

But when no one answered, he looked at Rick, and he could just tell by the look he was giving him that he wouldn’t like his answer. “Another night?” Daryl exclaimed. 

“You know we’ve been needin’ to find somewhere for Maggie to settle down a bit.” Rick explained, and Daryl tried not to look too irritated. That’d be Rosie soon enough. “But here?” he asked. 

“It doesn’t have to be here- I can make it a little longer on the road.” Maggie said, trying to put it all to rest. “Your body decides that, not you.” Rosie said, crossing her arms now and shooting Daryl a heated glare. 

“Traveling that much is hard on the body in your condition, especially in the heat.” She added. 

“We can stay, or we can go, but in all actuality that decision is up to you.” he told her. Maggie sighed, holding her large stomach. She looked at Daryl. 

“Without his interference.” Rosie butted in with her hand in front of his face to cover when he rolled his eyes. Maggie chuckled. 

“I think we should go. There’s nothing left really in the stores and one building isn’t suited well to hold all of us.” she said. Rosie and Daryl looked at Rick, waiting for his decision. Seeing as the others were all sleeping, it’d be on him to decide if they’d take off in the morning. 

“Alright then. First light, we head out. Priority now though is finding somewhere for Maggie.” he instructed, standing to walk across the room with Judith. 

“How’re your cramps?” Rosie asked. 

“Not as bad.” Maggie told her, but tapped her fingers nervously against her stomach. Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Whaaat?” she asked slowly. 

Please don’t say they’re regular, she thought to herself. 

Maggie looked at Daryl, and decided to lean over and whisper it into Rosie’s ear instead. 

“When?” Rosie nearly yelled, but Maggie shushed her. 

“Yesterday.” she answered, looking to make sure Glenn still slept.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not just Daryl who doesn’t wanna stay.” 

Daryl felt a bit awkward- that almost sounded like he was being blamed. Rosie sighed. “Well I’m always gonna be within earshot of you now. You should go get some rest- don’t forget your kegels.” Rosie stood. “Come with me? I have to pee.” she asked Daryl. Without a word he nodded and followed her outside, waiting until they were down the fire escape to ask her what that was all about. 

“She lost her mucus plug.” Rosie groaned, letting her eyes adjust before choosing a tree to squat behind. Daryl leaned against it with his back turned to her, her bat in hand. “Am I gonna regret askin’ what that is?” he asked her. 

“It’s a woman’s body’s way of tellin’ her she can have her baby any day.” Rosie answered quietly. 

Daryl’s eyebrows kicked up. “Well shit.” he said, handing her the bat as she came back around the tree. The pair walked up the road in silence, their heads on a constant swivel, but the night was quiet and cool. With a few pops of her back and her arms above her head, Rosie stretched long, allowing a moment of ease wash over her. 

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, his hand bumping against her side. 

“For the most part. Still can’t stand the smell of canned carrots.” she chuckled, stopping beside him against the building across from the group. More silence drifted between them, and he lit a cigarette, being mindful to turn away when he blew the smoke. 

“Think Maggie’ll be okay when it’s time?” he asked. Rosie shrugged, rubbing her hands together. 

“I wanna believe she’ll be, but anything could happen.” 

Daryl nodded. 

“Same goes for me.” she added, and he looked at her, smoke blowing from his nostrils. “When y’say it like that it sounds bad.” 

“Just being honest- forewarning, I guess.” she said, fidgeting a little. But he shook his head, flicking his cigarette down and moving to pull her into a tight embrace, his chin resting atop her head. “You’ll be fine.” he grumbled, and with a sigh she melted against him, her arms locking around his waist. 

“You’ve still gotta-” she tried to say. 

“I said you’ll b’fine.” he again said, squeezing her for emphasis. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Rosie nodded. “You ready to head out tomorrow?” he said in the silence, starting to rock side to side. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” she said against his chest. He furrowed his brows. “Don’t wanna leave?” he asked. 

“I’m just exhausted. I know you don’t wanna stay here and if I said anything on the matter of staying, it’d raise questions. I don’t think I’m ready to tell them yet.” she said softly, looking up at him. 

“Ashamed?” he asked. 

“Never. It’s just a lot to put out there when we’re on the move indefinitely.”

“We gotta tell ‘em soon.” 

“I know, we will.”

 

That night, while pressed against one another and Rosie sleeping with her hands clasping over his against her stomach, he lied still, trying to make sense of how they had actually made a life- how it grew in her belly, and what normally would be a long stretch of time was now moving quickly, and soon they’d have a baby, screaming and kicking into the world. It both terrified and excited him. But then there was the challenges that lay ahead of them, and those only held a greater degree of intensity. 

Sleep evaded him like so many prior nights, so he instead sat against the wall beside her, his eyes drifting between the window that framed bright stars and Rosie, sometimes stirring in her sleep. 

“Can’t sleep either?” Maggie asked suddenly, waddling around the dividing wall of the room. He shook his head. “Thought you’d be tired.” he replied. 

She nodded, sitting beside him slowly with a hand under her large stomach. “No doubt, but sleeping in itself is uncomfortable like this. Can’t seem to find a good position.” she said, looking out the same window, but she caught him looking back down at Rosie. 

“She’s pregnant, ain’t she?” she asked suddenly. His eyes snapped back to hers. 

“How’d y’know?” he asked in a whisper- it shot through his mind to deny it, but thought it better not to. Having Maggie on their side could be beneficial. She was level-headed and more understanding of people's personal circumstances. And, it didn’t hurt she was also pregnant in the apocalypse. 

“Every morning she runs off to puke, and she’s not been as energetic lately. Plus, I catch you two talking sometimes and you patting her stomach. I think it passed under everyone else’s radar, but all I’ve been doing lately is sitting and watching.” she said with a grin. He exhaled and leaned his head against the wall, looking away. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” she tried to comfort him, but he shook his head. 

“I’m not, just- tryin’ to wrap my head ‘round it still.” His index finger drew back and forth across his lips, his knees raising so he could rest his elbows. 

“Y’know, given our circumstances, I don’t think that’s entirely possible. We don’t have the luxury of going to the store and picking out cribs and strollers. But you’ll do good. I’ve seen others- it comes naturally.” She said, moving to stretch when her kickers foot lodged in her ribs. 

He acknowledged her, rubbing Rosie’s thigh when she rolled on her other side and groaned- probably more heartburn. 

“Rosies’ kids passed, didn’t they?” she asked softer. With a slow nod, he crossed his arms. 

“Benicio and Stella, still toddlers. Careless father got ‘em killed.” he didn’t think it right to tell her the full story. Maggie couldn’t imagine the heartache such events would cause, or how they’d effect and follow her. And now to be pregnant again? She leaned back and looked up. 

“Y’all’ll be alright. You’re both strong, caring- attentive.” she stressed the last word, even bowing her head to catch his gaze from behind his long hair. 

“If you think too much into it, you’re gonna set yourself up for disaster. Just take it day by day.” she finished, standing with his hand of assistance to crawl back beside Glenn. Was there some universal philosophy that woman shared when they were pregnant? It left him perplexed, and thinking that they had to be more secretive about their actions towards one another. Daryl already expressed to Rosie that he wanted to tell the other, but she wasn’t ready. For whatever reason he didn’t know, but there was no use arguing it. He could wait a while longer. 

By morning, everyone was up and moving, preparing to get back on the road. And as Rosie excused herself to ‘relieve herself’, Daryl snuck away to grab her arm and tell her that Maggie knew. 

Rosie looked around, her eyes wide and panicked. 

“How’d she find out?” she asked between grit teeth, feeling sweat line her brow and her nausea worsen. 

“She seen ya run off to puke all the time.” he answered, and she turned away quickly to rush behind a tree. Daryl turned away, crossing his arms and slyly glancing around to see if anyone else was noticing. 

“I had a feeling she knew.” he heard her croak, coughing up the last of the vomit. He shuddered. 

“She said she won’t be tellin’ anyone so I think we’re safe.” he answered, turning back to her as she rounded the tree. He pulled out the pepto from her bag she’d grabbed and offered it to her, masking the real meaning behind the nausea as Carl walked by with Judith in tow. 

With a scowl, she swallowed the medicine. “This shit doesn’t help.” she mumbled, throwing it back in her bag after pulling it over her head. 

“Y’okay now?” he asked, and she nodded. “Thirsty.”

“One down, seven t’go.” he said, walking back with her to the group. 

Her eyes locked with Maggie’s where she stood rocking back and forth, giving her a single nod. Rosie exhaled hard, sweat already lining her brow as she tied her hair up. 

“How about we leave anonymous notes in everyone’s bags and we can make it like a clue quest until the evidence eventually leads back to my huge stomach ten minutes before I push it out?” she asked, and he snorted. 

“Hey, can I talk to you a sec?” Rosie asked Maggie, and Daryl gave her a pat on the shoulder as he went to help Rick. 

“Daryl told you?” Maggie asked, folding blankets and handing Rosie one. She only nodded. 

“Thanks for not telling anyone. We’re going to, just- not yet. Still early.” she replied. 

“I get it. Ain’t really my news to be sharing anyways.” she said with a smile, signaling when Abraham approached behind her. 

“I got to thirty-two last night.”

“Good, good- little one is keepin’ active.” Rosie said, turning to Abraham when he stopped beside her. 

“You nestin’ yet?” he asked Maggie, placing a crate in the truck. 

“I think? I’m always re-organizing stuff, can’t seem to settle.” she answered, folding the last of her blankets. 

Abraham nodded. “My wife used to switch up our nursery for our little girls so many times that once comin’ home, I thought I’d walked into the wrong house.” he joked, and both Maggie and Rosie looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Abraham, you… you had a wife and kids?” Rosie asked, but he only nodded. 

“And they…?” Maggie asked. Again, he nodded. “Has everyone had kids at some point?” Rosie asked, looking at the rest who wandered about. 

“Nearly. You and Daryl next?” he asked playfully. 

“Oh! Um, well- uh, haha, hm…” Rosie stuttered, taking the moment to walk away. She heard Abraham chuckle behind her, carrying on the conversation with Maggie but she rushed to Daryl’s side, stepping in front of him when he moved to strap the bag under the bike seat. 

“Did you know Abraham had kids?” she whispered. He nodded, moving around her. 

“Who else?” she asked. Daryl stood, looking at Michonne and gesturing.

Rosie’s eyes widened, and she looked at her in disbelief. 

“You okay?” he asked. She shrugged, pushing her hair back. “I feel like a shit head for thinking that I was the only one carrying around a pocket full of stones with my kids names on them when two other people have gone through the same thing! What if I had said somethin’ and they took it the wrong way?” she rambled, but he shook his head and leaned over to grab her backpack and sling it over her shoulders. 

“You ain’t a shit head. You didn’t know so don’t think on it too much.” he said, but she pouted at him. 

“Oh hush.” he mumbled, giving her a kiss before walking away. Rosie sighed, pulling the straps tight around her shoulders. This was making her uneasy- apprehensive. When she had first laid eyes on Judith, it took her some time being able to approach the young girl without feeling like she might break down even after years of her own having died. Had the others had the same feelings? 

With a conflicted grunt, she made herself busy, but her mind was only on that concern. She didn’t want her pregnancy to make anyone uncomfortable or bring past grievances back to light in a way they couldn’t keep a handle on. 

 

 

Daryl looked back at her, her chin starting to dig into his shoulder. But she just stared off, her eyes glazed over in thought. He exhaled, crossing his arms and looking back to Rick and Carl walking from the gas station. Even when he shifted atop the bike, trying to express his discomfort, she stayed put, leaning lazily against his back. 

“Rose…” he mumbled. 

“Hm?” she answered. 

“S’not a big deal.” he said, looking at their surroundings. 

“I know. I guess I just- I don’t know. I just feel bad.” she murmured, and finally moved when he rolled his shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief- that was driving him nuts. 

“You didn’t know-,” and he already raised a hand to stop her when he felt her move to speak. “‘Cause no one said anything. Just like they don’t know ‘bout Stella and Benecio. Everyone’s got skeletons in their closet.” he finished, patting her thigh. 

Her eyes narrowed, and she rested her chin back on his shoulder despite him grunting in disapproval.

“Stuff ‘bout you I don’t know about?” she asked, and he scoffed. “Well?” she pried. 

“I dunno- nothin’ comes to mind right away.” He waved at Rick when they moved onto the tire shop next door. Daryl turned towards her, and the little spark of curiosity in her eyes. He motioned back towards the tire shop, but she cocked an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Before it all went to shit, I wanted to open up a motorcycle shop. I was savin’ up money n’ everything then used it to get Merle outta jail when they started blockin’ roads and dumpin’ bodies in trenches.” he explained, fiddling with his fingers. Rosie smiled at him. 

“You had a name for it?” she asked. 

“Nah- played around with Dixon somethin’ but couldn’t ever decide. Didn’t matter in the end.” he answered. 

“It does. Keep the idea alive- one day we can have everything back and when you have your shop, I can be a receptionist on the weekends.” she joked, and he chuckled. “We’ll bring our child in so they inherit the grease monkey gene from you and teach them a good work ethic.”

“On the weekends?” he asked. 

“Well who else is gonna watch the little one? Think baby sitters will be a phone call away like they used to be?” she asked, and he shook his head with a grin. He looked back to the others getting ready to leave, and as they took off, his mind swam in many directions, imagining what could’ve been or still had the chance of becoming. 

 

 

They waited, and stared. Some with arms crossed and others with hands on their hips, and while a few grinned, some scowled looking at the small four unit complex just behind a small town that was half hidden amongst overgrown trees. House after house, and building after building the past two weeks had been denied, and none had been as convenient as this one. Even if it was close to a main road, the fact it was divided so well but still close grabbed everyone's interest, except…

“It’s too close to town.” Rick said, and both Michonne and Carl groaned; they were waiting for him to say that. 

“A town that’s deserted.” Maggie said, rocking side to side to ease the ache in her back. 

“We can keep watch around the clock like we’ve always done.” Carl added, looking around for added point. “It’s getting close to the line.” Glenn said quietly, shooting Rick a worried glance. 

“Maggie needs to rest. She could pop any day and we wouldn’t need to stop labor.” Rosie had walked up then, holding Judith on her hip after pulling her blonde curls into a ponytail so they wouldn't aggravate the already heated toddler. 

“Be nice to settle down- one unit per family, that’s a cozy little setup.” Abraham commented, and Sasha chuckled. Rick looked back to the unit, but still felt apprehension. They’d never settled close to the open before, always preferring to be hidden in the pines. Towns were usually littered, but this one was empty so far. A nice change, but worrisome nonetheless. 

“It’s only temporary, man.” Daryl said then. 

“Is it worth the risk, though?” he asked everyone, and Rosie moved a wiggling Judith onto her other side, her irritation at Rick’s stubbornness about to blow. “As much of a risk if she went into labor in the open.” she ground out, and Maggie shook her head. 

“I can be quiet- I won’t draw attention.” she said, honestly wanting nothing more than to stay and rest a while. 

“Don’t worry about that. You do what your body needs to do.” Michonne told her, and Maggie half smiled. 

“And this little one could use some space to run around!” Rosie said happily, bouncing Judith and making her giggle. Michonne looked back to Rick again, and soon the rest were also staring at him. Reluctantly, he nodded. 

“Fine. But when Maggie and the baby are able, we keep goin’. Let’s get to work.” he said, and despite his sour attitude, the rest of them held high hopes for their temporary home. There was still a matter of deciding if the space was liveable, but for now, it was relieving to know they could relax at the end of the day instead of picking up and running. Rosie let Judith down to chase after Carl, but steadied herself against Daryl. 

“Dizzy again?” he said quietly, and she nodded. 

“Normal?” he asked, looking around inconspicuously. 

“Normal.” she repeated, patting his arm. 

The outside of the apartments were misleading. Some scattered trash, vines growing along walls and overgrown shrubbery, but overall fine. Inside- turmoil, and that was putting it lightly. Wallpaper torn, furniture turned, mold and dust and puddles of water in some corners, remnants of walkers and maybe uninfected… but they were determined. Rick was already willing to throw in the towel, but they all insisted they could clean it up. Choosing the least disastrous unit and handing it over to Maggie and Glenn, they all worked in shifts to clean and keep watch, occasionally scouting the surrounding area. Between throwing old furniture out and bringing in new pieces from a store down the street, to scrubbing walls and sweeping and mopping, it was quite the job. 

 

“Egg cartons?” Maggie asked, looking at the piles that Sasha had brought in and began stapling together. Behind them, Glenn and Carl were methodically scrubbing the tile floor of the small kitchen and wiping down countertops; any spots missed were a chance for mold to grow and make someone sick. Especially a newborn. 

“Place them up on the wall and it’ll help soundproof. That way when the baby cries, it won’t draw as much attention.” she explained, but Maggie furrowed her brows. 

“But egg cartons?” she asked again, and Sasha chuckled, handing her a stapler. 

 

“One- two- three!” Rick and Glenn said simultaneously, and both yanked on the end of a jammed ladder that ran up along the side of the complex to the roof. With an ear splitting screech and loud bang, it finally gave and slid down the railing, but also effectively sent them backwards into a pile of trash that had been thrown over the railing. Both men groaned, but the ladder that had defied the rest of the group was now accessible, and now a better vantage point of town was had.

“That was funny.” Rosie said with a grin, leaning against the top railing with Carl and Abraham beside her, also laughing. 

Rick glared up at them, dusting off his clothes. 

“Don’t you have somethin’ to be cleaning?” he snapped. Rosie and Carl rushed away, nearly bumping into each other, but Abraham still stood, his mustache kicked up at the edges in a wide smile. 

 

She came to squat next to another towering pile of clothing that had been piled into a corner of the small living room, and began sorting it. Almost all of the living space had been sorted and cleaned, but now these smaller mountains of someone’s former belongings needed a look through, and clothes were definitely not something to pass up. She hoped for stretchier jeans and looser shirts (knowing soon she’d need the extra space), but not many options were presenting-

That’s when a spider the size of a dinner plate crawled from the fold of a sheet, making it’s way right for her leg. She was halfway to the door before she realized she was screaming. Daryl had been coming up the stairs when he heard her, and he took two at a time before sprinting down the balcony and to the door she threw open. 

“What- what?” he asked frantically, trying to keep her from spinning in his arms and looking all around them. Rosie couldn’t speak coherently- she was just gasping and mumbling mixed words. All the commotion had alerted the rest of the group, now coming to their side with guns raised and ready. 

“What the-,” Carl exclaimed, looking inside her apartment and bearing witness to the monstrous spider crawling towards the door. Rosie looked back, and screamed again, pushing away from Daryl and bolting towards the stairs. He understood then. The rest rolled their eyes and went back to their previous tasks, and Carl and Daryl went about trying to figure out how to dispose of a spider that looked like it could chew their feet off. 

 

Glenn tried to turn the engine, but it only sputtered, kicking with it’s last breaths of life. 

“I think it’s done in.” he said aloud, but Daryl shook his head. “Nah, cells are dry in the battery- think it’s thirsty.” he mumbled, grabbing the distilled water and pouring it in. He waved his hand, and Glenn again tried, but was happy to hear it rumble to life despite still sputtering. 

“Hunk a’ junk could be of some use.” Daryl said, dropping the hood. 

Rosie looked up from the old polaroid camera she’d found stashed in a dresser when the slamming hood startled her, and she was just raising the camera to her face when a brittled walker popped from behind a building they were next to, ambling towards the men. 

“On your left, gringo.” she called, sitting straighter on his bike. 

Daryl spun, and with ease took the walker down with an arrow. But upon retrieving it, he stopped. 

“Ain’t ever seen that before.” he said, and both Glenn and Rosie waited for him to reach down and stand again, holding the partially eaten skull and spinal column of a former person. 

“Son’bitch had it in his hands!” Daryl exclaimed, observing the mangled bones. 

“Snack on the go?” Glenn asked, and Rosie chuckled. She watched him examine the remnants in his hands, already covered in grease and now rotted blood, but he always seemed unaffected by the grime. Made her feel dirty just looking at it. 

“We could hang it up on the other side a’ town, maybe other people will stay away.” he suggested, and Glenn furrowed his brows. “That’s what you’re for, dude.” he replied. 

Rosie snorted, holding a hand over her mouth. 

But even Daryl grinned, raising his palms. “Seriously?” he asked. 

Rosie acted quickly, and snapped a photo of him, and was absolutely elated to see the picture slide out. She eagerly shook the polaroid, waiting for it to develop. 

“Seriously?” Daryl said again. 

 

It was a long cleanup- thoroughly exhausting everyone and taking more time than originally planned, but when the deed was done, they all had a cozy unit to settle into with blankets hung in their windows to hide lights and always someone watching on the roof. 

Michonne and Rick had space amongst the floor to lay down with Judith, reciting colors of toys and rolling around while Carl perched by the window, reading comics he found along the way. 

Maggie just couldn’t seem to find the right spot to put the playpen she’d found- it was between the corner by the closet or right beside their sleeping mats. But Glenn liked it under the bedroom window. This went on and on, and both Rosie and Michonne told her that this nesting wouldn’t end until her baby was in her arms. 

With playing cards in hand and a smile on her lips, Abraham and Sasha found great enjoyment on watch together, exchanging silly stories and mapping out their life together. 

And when Daryl and Rosie couldn’t find any better place to eat, they’d sit on the floor of the small kitchen, backs against cabinets and facing each other with plates of food on their laps. Of course there was a pile of books close by, but Daryl had snuck one in without anyone noticing they now bickered over: baby names. 

 

 

Everytime Maggie groaned from inside her unit, they’d both tense, waiting for something to progress. But it had been hours- an entire day, basically, and she was still wandering around in pain. 

“How long can that go on for?” Daryl asked, blowing the smoke away from Rosie. 

“Long time. I was in labor with Benicio for two days.” she said indifferently, bouncing her heels against the wall her legs hung over. “Seriously?” he coughed, and she nodded. 

“Labor is unpredictable.” she mumbled, leaning back on her hands. 

His eyes followed her, and slowly moved down. Nervously he twiddled his cigarette, his eyes darting between her and her stomach.

“You’re showing.” he said, and she sighed. “Yeah.” 

He stared, and she hesitantly met his eyes. When his eyebrows perked up, she shook her head. Daryl groaned. “Rosie…”

“Just not yet.” she whined. 

“You said-,”

“I know, I know. I just want this bubble of niceness to stay unpopped a while longer.” she said, leaning against him. 

“Y’think they’re gonna banish you or somethin’?” he joked. Rosie giggled. 

“I think they’re gonna be pissed.” she answered. “Nah- they’d have no right. Rick n’ Glenn had their turn makin’ babies and no one said anything. They won’t do us wrong.” he told her, finishing his cigarette and flicking it into the road below. 

“We’ll see, I suppose.” she said softly. 

The world around them was still and dark, but soft breezes rustled tops of trees and swept across their skin where the sun had left its heat. “This is nice.” she spoke, and he nodded, starting to swing his feet beside hers.

“Wanna know something unsettling?” she suddenly asked. “Thought we were enjoyin’ the niceness.” he mumbled.

“If my kids and husband were still around, and Beth had never died, we wouldn’t even know each other. Or maybe we would, but we would’ve never gravitated towards one another. We’d have our separate lives. To think of that hurts, but isn’t weird that if it had happened like that, it wouldn’t?” she asked, and he thought on it. Passing her on the streets of Alexandria with a nod instead of an arm around her shoulders, or never having looked for her when everyone was separated. To not have known that her favorite time of day was sunset, or that she had trouble pronouncing the word ‘orange’, or any of the other random things he’d learned about her- all things he felt he needed to know, but if he’d never acquired, wouldn’t bother him in the slightest. It was almost too much to comprehend. 

Having her children instead of his- would their paths have even crossed if her family hadn’t’ve died?

“That is unsettlin’.” he muttered. He didn’t want to think of never having her like this. Life had been all routine and survival before she came running into his arms. He fought, he patrolled, and he kept his heart closed. Where would he be without his Rosie girl?

“If you still had ‘em- Benicio and Stella, I’d take care of all a’ya.” he started, worried what his words would bring. She looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to finish. 

“I mean honestly, I think no matter what I would’a fallen for you. Regardless of other people or your kids. If they’d been here, they would’ve been mine too after awhile, I think. I could accept that- I’d love ‘em just as much as this one.” he finished, his rough voice carefully moving around his powerful words. Rosie rested her forehead against his shoulder, trying to bite back tears. Occasional moments like this where she wished harder than usual her children were still toddling behind her were hard to control, but what Daryl had said equally comforted her. 

“Oh jeez.” she slurred, leaning back to wipe her cheeks. 

“Why did life have to happen like this?” she groaned, and he shrugged. 

“Life just happens.” he replied, and she nodded, holding her cheeks. 

“Rosie!” Glenn’s voice suddenly alerted them, and she leaned over the roof. He came running down the balcony, his eyes wide with panic. 

“Maggie’s water broke!” he announced. 

“Life just happens.” Daryl said again, helping her down the edge of the roof until she was following Glenn in their unit. 

 

It was forty five minutes of agony- pushing, breathing, break. Pushing, burning, stretching, break. 

But after it all, the screams and remembering to keep her chin to her chest, she had her perfect little boy in her arms that had her brown hair and Glenn’s eyes. Appropriately, he was named Hershel Rhee, and after examining the healthy newborn and helping Maggie, Rosie left the couple to admire their creation, a true miracle. She left quietly, telling the others that had gathered outside to let them rest and meet the little boy in the morning. 

Daryl watched her walk into their unit without a word or glance in his direction. That was odd. 

She thought it to be the natural reaction of watching someone give birth. But the blood coating her forearms suddenly felt sticky and warm, irritating her skin. She wiped it, only causing it to spread higher up her arms. With a heavy sigh she stomped to the bathroom, and dumped water from the pale beside it into the sink. She splashed the cold water up her arms and scrubbed her pores with the bar of soap she had. The suds turned red. Her skin turned pinker as she used her nails to pull the blood from her skin. 

But even when she rinsed, she could still smell it. It had so distinctive of a scent, and it drove her crazy. It brought back traces of two labors that tore her apart and left her reliant on pain meds for weeks following the births of her children. And now it brought a deep seated fear. There’d be no doctors, no nurses, no equipment to make sure the baby was breathing on its own and no tests to detect any problems. It’d be her and the power of her own body when the time came. 

Rosie observed her arms, flipping them over and over to check for any spots missed. She looked in the mirror, and in the faint candle light could see the blood coating her shirt. It was off her body in a flash, and now she could see where it had bled through onto her stomach, over her stretch marks. 

A deep breath in, and a shaking one out. 

Another, and her hands rested on her hips. As she turned, her hand ran the curve of her stomach that was now showing her condition. 

“S’like it popped up overnight.” Daryl’s voice came softly to her, and she looked back to see him setting down his crossbow beside their bed of sleeping bags and mats, and walking into the candlelight. A moment ago she was picturing a million ways a labor could go wrong, but looking for his narrow eyes behind his long hair, and his broad shoulders- or the gleam of sweat on his chest where he left the top button of his sleeveless shirt undone when it was too hot- it all calmed her at once. Dark, handsome, serene- brought her back up from being pulled under. 

Without a word he grabbed a towel beside them and soaked it, then ringed it to wipe across her belly. His large hands were gentle, and slow. It’s what she needed. Just a little bit of quiet, and mild. 

“You need a few more minutes?” he asked. She looked up at him, shaking her head. 

“I think I’m good for a while.” 

Daryl studied her, more importantly her eyes. They always spelled what she felt, and from what he could see, he saw warm flames that didn’t threaten to burn out of control. She spoke the truth.

“F’you need a little to be scared, I get it.” he said anyways, and she furrowed her brows. “Are you scared?” she asked. 

“I’m terrified.” he admitted, feeling somewhat ashamed. But Rosie gave him a half smile, and pushed past his hands to lean up and wrap her arms around his neck loosely. His hands locked against her lower back, and he swayed ever so slightly where they stood and looked at one another.

Her thumb traced his narrow cheek, pulling his hair away from his eyes. 

“You make me fearless.” she barely whispered, and his hands slid up her back. Why couldn’t he find the same words to tell her? Tell her that he loved her so much; that when he only looked at her, he felt like he could carry planets upon his back. Like he could walk through flames. And when she would proclaim her love for him- he could stand the crushing forces of the deepest oceans. When he had her with him, he was his most powerful, yet she had complete power over him. 

So when she looked down to where her hand rested on his chest, he kissed her cheek, lingering there. Her eyes closed in content, and even when he pulled away enough to look at her, she kept them closed at the soft draw of his hands moving up her arms. 

And then she moved both hands to his cheeks, pulling him down so she could catch his mouth, moaning softly when he squeezed her against him. It was so fluid the way she’d snake her arms around his neck, and arch just right so they melted together perfectly. With strong hands, he lifted her from behind her thighs until her legs locked around his hips with a soft gasp, and carried her away.

 

"I hate this game." 

"No no, it can be fun. I'll start..." she rocked back a little bit as she pondered her first question, trying not to smile at his sour expression. 

"What if I'd taken your gun and knocked you unconscious the day we met?" She snickered. Daryl rolled his eyes. 

"What ever, woman." He grumbled. 

"Don't underestimate me, now answer." She piped. He sighed. 

"I would'a tracked ya down ‘n beat you senseless, prolly." He answered, and she scoffed. 

"Mhm, okay. Your turn." Rosie said crossing her legs and toying with the button to his shirt she wore. He rested his hands behind his head to readjust the flat pillow he laid against, and bit his inner cheek. He wasn't good at games like this. 

“Did you have any pets?” He threw the question out, not really putting thought into it. She rolled her eyes. 

“A black cat named Lola.” 

“Black cats are bad luck.” He mumbled. She cocked an eyebrow. 

“You are superstitious.” She declared, but he only shrugged. “What happened to it?” He asked, and she bit her cheek. 

“We… ran out of food.” She hesitantly told him. 

Daryl nodded. He wanted to ask how cat tasted, but thought it better not to drag it out. 

"Okay- what if we'd met before it all went bad? Like way before?" She asked, and revisited the thought. 

"Would you still like me if it had been me making eye contact with you at a gas station instead of a gun pointed at your face?" She asked softly. 

Absolutely. Definitely. Without hesitation. All words that rang in his head, but he lay captivated by the thought instead.

He’d see her standing by her car, exhausted after a long shift, but he just couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He’d approach slowly, and calm his viper tongue long enough to catch her attention as he'd lean over her car, filling her ears with nonsense, but nonsense that would nonetheless be enough to keep her there- maybe even throw in an awful joke, just to hear her laugh or watch her fiery eyes roll. He’d see the ring on her finger- ehh, he really wouldn’t care. Either way, he wouldn't leave without her number and the promise he'd see her again. 

He'd make an effort to make sure his jeans weren't muddy or bloody, and he'd throw the trash from his pickup out so she had room to slide up beside him when they’d watch movies at the drive in, or at the lake he fished at, sitting in the bed and waiting for their fishing rods to sound the alarm as they sipped beers and laughed. Around that time, he'd start questioning why he wanted to see her so often, compared to the girls he'd discarded after a couple days. She too would question this, and why she was so attracted to the white boy who's Georgia accent and gravely voice made her shiver. But after one of those nights, she’d find herself slipping the gold band from her finger, and feeling the weight of a dying marriage roll off her back. 

After a few more dates, he'd pull her beside the liquor store he'd frequent, but now grabbing snacks and beer with her to take back to her place. But before they'd crawl back into the car, he'd lean her against the wall and hold her shoulders steady that trembled from laughter under his jacket, and kiss her long, and gentle, memorizing every curve of her mouth and the taste of her tongue. This is when he'd realize he was so deeply in love with her- that every time her fingers curled against his clothing to bring him close, he'd never stand the distance between them again. There was something about her that changed him- he didn’t feel the need to prove his worth to anyone like he’d done his entire life. If he was enough for her, that’s all that mattered. This would also be the time she told him she had two kids, and he’d be unable to hide the smirk when he saw how worried she was that he’d run away. She didn't think he'd be so okay- that he'd still hold her tight and ask if she didn’t think he noticed when the ring disappeared and the carseats in her car when he’d pick her up. Her face would press against his chest, pushing away the fear that plagued her since leaving her husband. 

A morning after she'd spent the night in his old, ratty home while Merle was away, he'd catch her dancing to soft music on the radio in the kitchen, barely dressed in one of his shirts while she fried eggs and hotdogs. His hands chasing goosebumps up her ribs and his lips against her neck would interrupt her, and eventually he'd slide between her legs with her sat on a countertop. And he'd make sure again and again that she screamed his name far before he did hers. Later when they'd go to the market together, she'd notice a sideways glare from one of his previous flings, but he'd swear she was stuck with him forever, and keep an arm around her shoulders as they idled down isles. 

He could see it all- right up to meeting her kids, and kneeling down when they hid behind her legs. But he'd adore them, and be the arms to run into when they'd wake up at night terrified, soothing them back to sleep with soft hushes and gentle rocking. And one day, when she was moved in and the kids had their own room, they’d fight over a stupid rumor that had made it’s way into their home, and she’d curse him for thinking she’d never find out. But despite all the temptation to scream back and prove his innocence, he’d ask her why he would ever cheat on the woman he planned to marry. 

And years down the line, when her kids were in highschool and comfortable with also calling him ‘Dad’, and their own kid was old enough to already start asking for their own phone, she’d come by his shop after her shift and always bring him dinner if he was working late. She’d still greet him with a smile and a kiss, often flipping his workers off when they teased. Their kids would tag along almost always, filling his already busy shop with more conversation and laughter. They’d ride home together, and sometimes he’d have one of them riding along with him on the bike. Before, he could never think of a name to bring his dream of a shop to life. But in that moment, he couldn’t imagine naming it anything else besides ‘Gringo’s’. 

How sad it was to think that he could've had it all without the end of the world, but at least she was here now, and they could start their own story. He'd give them everything they needed and wanted. Never had he thought he'd be this man, but here he was. 

With a half smirk, he tugged on the end of a lock of her curls. "Duh." He said. She grinned, the blush in her cheeks making him. 

“My turn, can you…” she thought on it. 

“It's my turn.” He said. “Shush- can you dance?” She asked, and he snorted. 

“Can you get down?” She started crawling towards him. 

“Can you dance bachata with me?” She asked, and he chuckled, “Ba-what?”, as she sat over his hips. “Or can you do the twist?” She sang, grabbing his hands and wiggling above him, his arms like jello as she made him move. 

He didn't answer, only gazed up at her. 

"What?" She asked smiling, but he only shook his head, still staring at her. 

"How’d this happen?" He asked, squeezing her hands, but she furrowed her brows. A flicker of worry flashed across her face. 

"How'd you fall for me?" He asked quietly, his shyness showing. 

Rosie grinned then. "How couldn't've I?" She asked, but he still looked questioning. But she only shrugged- should she really list everything that drew her to him? 

"You're constant, like a lighthouse. I wandered for a long time but you were my focal point- kept me grounded. You make me feel safe." She told him, her eyes darkening as she the deep lo likeness what was her only form of company in those years she walked alone, always tempted to run back to her only piece of home left. 

"It was easy to love you." She said quieter, moving from his grip to lean on her hands beside his head. 

"Sayin' I'm easy?" He joked, and she scoffed. 

"Shut up. That's not what I mean." 

"Sure sounds like it." He teased, his fingers poking her sides to make her wiggle again. 

"Okay asshat- why'd you fall for me?" She retorted, and he stiffened. Words weren't his strong point. But she glared at him when he just shrugged. "Spit it out!" She piped, slapping his shoulder. But then he flipped her so she was on her back now and kneeling between her thighs, and looking down at the perfect creation below him. 

"It... it was like learnin' to track 'n hunt. Effortless. Tried not to, but after a while it felt like I had to to keep livin'. It wasn't where it was suppose to happen, but how couldn't I? You were right in front of me." He forced out, feeling foolish for his poor choice of words, but his voice was steady and his blue eyes held solid on hers. Rosie felt her heart swell, and never felt so sure about loving the man above her than in that moment. 

He was right- they found love where it wasn't supposed to be, and despite everything that tried and could've kept them apart, they came together. And they stayed together. They stayed. 

“Even my fuzzy legs?” She asked, and he laughed out loud. “Even that.” He assured. 

Rosie looked at him a moment longer, and asked, "Will you love him too?"

He heard the worry in her voice even though she tried to cover it, but he nodded. "Already do." He answered, and she smiled.

 

 

 

She tried to catch a peek at what he was messing with, but her eyes needed elsewhere to be in case a walker wandered into the street they raced down. But just like the first time, he shadowed it with his hands and knife, sometimes looking at her to make sure she didn’t see. 

The wind coming in through the window threw his hair around, showing the dirt on his face that matched everywhere else. She bit her cheek. “Y’know- when the baby gets here you’re gonna have to stay clean.” she said over the roar of the wind. He stilled. 

“How clean?” he grumbled, adjusting his feet on the dashboard. 

She reached over to run a hand down his sweaty arm, and showed her dirty palm to him. “I shouldn’t be able to do this.” she smiled, and he pushed her hand away, sinking farther into the seat. Rosie slowed when the tops of buildings lifted over trees, and his eyes followed hers. His hand grabbed for her walkie. 

“‘Ey Rick, we got’a town.” Daryl said, and heard the other line click. 

“Let’s park away and walk the rest.” he responded. “Will do.” Daryl said, and Rosie was already pulling off to the side and swinging around, opting to back up into the trees so they could jump in and peel out if needed. 

Rick and Michonne pulled up to them leaning against the truck in the shade of the overcast day, and when they’d grabbed their weapons from the seat, they all moved down the road slowly on high alert, jittering every time the dry thunder clapped overhead.

“Don’t see no tire marks or prints- no one’s been here a while.” Daryl said softly, his eyes glued to the ground. 

“No broken window or doors.” Michonne added. Rosie passed the map to Rick, keeping her bat on her shoulder. “Small enough town- could just be that people passed it without knowing.” Rosie said, peering around an old and withered walker that reached slowly from the driver's side of a car.

“Think it’ necessary we go all the way?” she asked, and RIck stood to study the road leading into what was only a handful of markets and businesses. 

“I guess we could fire a warning shot-,” he was starting to say, but Daryl bumped his arm and pointed to Rosie. She was already scooping rocks into an old can, and tying it shut with spooled wire she now carried with her. After standing, she handed it to Daryl.

“Shoulders’ still bad.” she mumbled, and leaned back to throw the can as far down the road as he could. It fell and clattered, echoing against the walls of the buildings, bouncing and rolling until it finally stopped. Michonne winced everytime it rang, her shoulders pulling up. Rick and Michonne looked at Rosie who guarded the sun with her eyes. 

“Gunshots too loud.” Daryl said, counting the small number of walkers that trickled towards the noise. 

“Rattle cans.” Rosie said with a smile, and brought her bat down as she walked the road. 

 

“I’m just saying-,” she tried to explain, hoisting herself over the bar and standing in a pile of glass. 

“It’s too white?” Daryl barked, leaning over the bar top. 

“Well- yeah.” she mumbled, turning to him with a half empty bottle of whiskey in her hands. “That’s what y’said ‘bout all the names I like!” he complained, walking away towards the back of the karaoke bar. 

“You said mine were too Mexican!” she hissed. 

He vanished behind a swinging door- probably a back office. Her hands pushed between bottles to search for hidden handguns, and eventually she came along a shotgun hung under the lip of the bar.

“One gun with no bullets ain’t gonna do no good.” he sneered as he came back out, but he bit his cheek when she slammed a box of unopened shells on the bartop. He sighed, tapping his finger against his thigh. 

“You’re being a little bitch.” she said quickly, and he opened his mouth to snap back, but loud engines outside approaching caught their attention. In seconds, their backs were against walls and carefully looking outside, but their stomachs dropped at the sight of numerous men and woman both in cars and bikes parking along the road in front of the old buildings, including theirs. Thankfully, they didn’t charge in immediately, but the two didn’t wait around to see what happened next- Daryl was already ushering her out the back, keeping his crossbow raised at the cracked door in case they barged in. 

“Rick, we gotta go- big group rolled in.” Rosie whispered into the walkie, jogging alongside the back of the buildings and into the trees towards the cars. 

“Already going- stay low and quiet.” Michonne said, and the walkie was silenced as they cautiously wound through the trees. 

 

“Get everyone going- we gotta leave now.” RIck said, not even bothering to close the truck door as he sped for the steps besides Michonne. By the time they were back, they had barely outrun a light drizzle of rain that was coating everything; summer rains always came at the strangest of times.

“What happened?” Sasha called down from atop the complex, standing, her eyes scanning the horizon. 

“Another group rolled in.” Rosie said, taking the steps two at a time. 

“Too big?” Carl asked, almost bumping into Glenn who walked after Rick. “That’s why we’re leavin.” Daryl said, walking into his unit to start stuffing belongings into bags and throwing them over the railing towards the cars. 

“Were they coming this way?” Maggie asked, keeping Hershel tight in her arms. Michonne only nodded. “That means we’ll have to go around.” she added, hurrying back to grab Judith. 

“Another long detour.” Abraham grunted, throwing his bag down the stairs. 

“We have to set something up so we have time- they’ll catch our trail.” Sasha said, looking down the roads. 

“She’s right, we can make a barricade along the road.” Carl said, stopping his dad from walking away. Rick sighed. 

“That means splitting up so half can get going and meet at a rendezvous point.” he grumbled, and noted the apprehension of them all. “We gotta slow ‘em down.” Daryl said, walking past them. 

“Fine- Carl, Daryl, we’ll stay behind and set it up. The rest of you keep each other safe and meet a few miles down from the town we just hit. Michonne’ll show you.” Rick decided, but Rosie pitched in. “I’m going with.” she stated, almost sounding confused that she wasn’t called to come along. 

“You’re goin’ with ‘em.” Daryl said lowly, and she glared at him. “No.” She rejected that idea immediately.

“We’ll meet up on the map-,” he tried to say. “Did you forget what happened last time you said that?” she argued, but he still moved to walk away. 

“You won’t be ‘lone this time.” 

“We don’t have time for this.” Rick said, moving down the stairs with Carl behind him. By now, everything essential was packed up and ready to go, and they were grabbing the last of their weapons to take with in hand. When Daryl followed, Rosie grabbed his collar. “Then I’m coming with-,” but he spun on her. 

“No!” he snapped. 

“Daryl!”

“You know why you can’t!”

She stiffened. “That doesn’t-”

“Why not?” Michonne asked, coming to stand beside them. Now most of them were listening, and even Rick had turned to look at them when they both paused, feeling the pressure on them. But Daryl sighed, and looked Rosie right in the eye when he said, “‘Cause she’s pregnant.”

Rosie’s eyes darkened, and her brows arched down in anger. How dare he use this against her. She knew her limits, and she could do this. How dare he. 

Undoubtedly, the majority was shocked, but there wasn’t time for congratulations and lectures. 

“This can wait. Rosie, go with the others.” Rick demanded, walking away before she could answer. She looked desperately at him, willing him to buckle and take her with. But he looked cold, and unmoving like marble. 

“Daryl that group was huge.” she whimpered. 

“You need t’get goin’.” he only said. She sighed, and yanked her bat from his hand when he gave it to her. “C’mon, let’s go.” Maggie said softly, her arm around her shoulder and pulling her away. They glared coldly at one another, both of them seething, but her eyes stayed on him the entire time, even when she sat in the bed of the truck, speeding down the old road before splitting off onto a backroad. 

 

“That ‘otta do it.” Daryl said, pulling the bandana from his face and stepping away from the whipping flames that engulfed the line of old trash, walker bodies and shopping carts that crossed the road. Even though the warm rain was coming down more profoundly, it wouldn’t dampen the tall fire that was cracking loudly and already alerting anyone nearby with its dark, billowing smoke. 

More thunder overhead, and some lightning flashed in the dim sky. 

“We got a long ride ahead, let’s move.” Rick said, tugging on Carl’s arm. Daryl followed, hopeful that his bike could last in the rain. 

 

“I can’t see them!” Michonne ground out, trying desperately to see out the windshield, but the heavy rain that had come upon them so suddenly was blinding them. “Should we flash the lights?” Sasha asked. 

“That’s what got us seen the first time.” she leaned back to pound against the back window of the truck. “Anything?” she yelled. 

Rosie couldn’t see anything in the rainy haze behind them, and only when lightning flashed across the road could she see brief outlines of trees. But the others in their car had disappeared somewhere along the lines behind them when they’d accidentally ran into others. They couldn’t be sure if it was part of the same group they were avoiding, or another, but either way, they’d chased them down a blurry and winding road until suddenly, they weren’t being chased anymore. 

“Nothing!” she yelled back, the warm water running into her eyes and soaking her clothing, but she still held her shotgun up steadfast, prepared to fire. 

Michonne held her hand over the knob, but hesitated. It was a risk. But as she tensed her hand, two sets of headlights down the road illuminated the space before them. 

“Get away!” Sasha yelled, grabbing the steering wheel and veering them off the road. Rosie yelled, gripping to anything she could find as they bounced and lurched across sideroad until they wrecked into a tree after Michonne had slammed on the brakes. With a ear splitting crash and bang, there was only the rain falling around them afterwards. 

 

 

“We’re not far from the spot, we can afford to wait out the rain a bit.” Rick said, keeping his eyes low. From inside the car and hidden amongst the trees in the rain, they could see anyone who passed the road, walker or human alike. But it was empty. No living creature would wander in the storm like this. 

Daryl had said what he needed, had made his point known about not wanting to sit and wait. But even he knew there was no sense driving in conditions like this; he’d almost dropped his bike twice just trying to park it in the mud. He rotated the smooth pendant in his fingers, tracing the rough carvings under his thumb. It wasn’t finished, and wouldn’t be for a while, nor was there any chance working on it in the dark, but keeping his hands busy helped. Rick looked at him. 

“So… pregnant?” he asked, and Daryl’s hand stilled, then nervously fiddled again. 

“Yeah.” he responded, his rough voice cracking. Rick nodded. 

“Y’alright?” his friend asked. Daryl nodded, too. “I’m good.”

He gave him a rough pat on the arm, knowing there was no need for a long talk or ask him to open up. His friend, right hand man- his brother, was to be a father soon, and that was that. 

“Another lil’ ass-kicker?” Carl asked, and they all chuckled. “Hell yeah.” Daryl said, his voice a little lighter. 

 

 

Rosie staggered backwards, her back hitting a tree as her crooked and bloody bat fell into the mud beside her. She coughed the blood from her nose, and wiped it across her cheek, but the rain water only made it spread.

How had only three men overpowered them so quickly? Having not been delirious from a car crash, they probably wouldn’t have even been spotted crawling from the truck. But now Sasha was nearly unconscious and beaten profusely, and Michonne was almost a victim of rape if Rosie hadn’t managed to stand after being almost assaulted herself. Maybe lying so still after taking a hit to the face with the butt end of a gun was enough to convince them she was dead after one of the grizzly men had torn open her shirt and gone for her pants, but her friends screams and struggling had startled her.

She wouldn’t let that happen to them. One by one they took them out, and by the time they were done, Michonne had literally cut two of them into pieces as Rosie bludgeoned one to death with her bat. It was done, but they still fumed. 

“You’re okay? Are you okay?” Rosie asked, stumbling over to Michonne who basically caught her. They both nodded, noting the cuts on their faces and torn clothing, but quickly went to Sasha’s side after doing their best to tie their clothing. After taking a hit in the head from the crash, she was already barely conscious. Now, she was coming in and out, and Rosie was sure she had a concussion.

“You gotta stay awake.” Rosie said, holding her face up so the rain woke her up.

“We gotta carry her.” Michonne coughed, leaning down to grab her arm. Rosie nodded, but wobbled back to the truck to strap on some bags before going back to loop Sasha’s arm over her shoulder and make their way into the trees. Their bodies ached and their wounds stung under the relentless rain, but they kept walking. They were still far from the rendezvous point, and had to walk the rest of the night. If they waited now, they wouldn’t be able to get back up if walkers stumbled along. They had to keep moving. 

 

 

They didn’t know exactly where to stop along the road. The car rolled slowly down the street, all three of them cautiously looking in every direction. He’d said a few miles out of town, but that hadn’t been very clear. Daryl did his best to keep his bike at a low rumble, so he walked it beside Rick’s truck.

But eventually, Abraham stepped out from behind a small motel, waving them down when he recognized the low growling of the bike. Rick and Carl followed Daryl in after parking and giving the area around them a once over, but Daryl’s eyes didn’t meet Rosie’s. He spun a couple times. 

“Where’re the girls?” he asked. 

“We got split up last night, haven’t seen ‘em since.” Maggie said, sitting by Judith who napped. 

“How?” Rick asked, utterly confused, and couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice.

“We don’t know if it was the same group or others, but they ambushed us. We barely outran them and made it here when the rain finally stopped.” Glenn explained. Daryl exhaled angrily. 

“They’re fine- probably waiting for the rain to stop like we did.” Rick told him, but barely believed himself. Those women were fully capable of taking care of themselves, but circumstances were against them. 

“They shoulda been here already then!” Daryl snapped, and Rick eyed him. “You need to calm down.” he said, but he was already storming out, unable to decide which direction to look in. 

“Did you try their walkie?” Carl asked. Maggie nodded. “We haven’t gotten anything back.” 

Daryl walked back and forth, looking for any sign that maybe they’d passed thinking it was somewhere else. He took a moment to compose himself- he needed to stay level headed. He yanked his crossbow off the back of his bike as he walked by it, and behind the motel complexes. Just like that, he’d blended with the trees and was off. 

 

“I can see Daryl’s bike and the cars.” Michonne said quietly, bringing the binoculars down. 

“So they’re okay.” Rosie sighed, wiping fresh blood from Sasha cheek. She was still hovering around consciousness, but could still give basic responses when asked by the women. She hoped her travel bag packed with her medical supplies was still with the others so she could get Sasha what she needed soon. But didn’t know the overall condition of everyone else. 

Rosie groaned as she stood, holding her side that was now developing a large bruise. 

After standing next to Michonne, she finally unclipped the walkie from her hip and switched it on. 

“Anyone, this is Rosie, comeback.” she said, and they waited. 

“We’re here- are y’all okay?” Maggie’s voice came to them, and they both grinned. 

“We’re down the road.” She said, and almost instantaneously Abraham came storming out of the motel, walking like a mad-man in search of Sasha. Michonne chuckled and packed the binoculars away. The two grabbed their friend and walked from the trees with her around their shoulders, and could see the look of horror on his face when he saw them wobbling down the road. 

Carl and Rick followed close behind, and they all scrambled to grab her. 

There was no hesitance in the way Abraham scooped his lover into his arms and hurried her back to the motel, and Rick too pulled Michonne close, bearing her weight as they walked back to the room. Rosie stopped to lean against her knees; she was so tired and sore. A tug on the backpack brought her back, and she smiled up at Carl who helped slide them off her body to carry them. 

“Long night?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“You okay?” Carl asked. She gave him a half grin, hobbling beside him. 

“I see the bike but not the man.” Rosie sighed, the ache in her back disrupting her normal gait. 

“Went off looking for you.” He replied, patiently walking beside her. Rosie shook her head- such impatience he had sometimes. “Everyone okay?” she asked. 

“Little banged up, nothing like you three, though.” he answered, and she nodded. “Let’s take a look, then.” she mumbled, entering the motel and assessing everyones bumps and scrapes. All minor- rest and rehabilitation for everyone. Michonne needed dressings, but Sasha needed stitches. They asked what caused such wounds, but the women were silent, not wanting to reveal the trouble they’d ran into. Their lack of response was enough, and it turned Rick and Abrahams knuckles white there they clutched guns or chairs, but Rosie kept rapt attention to the curved needle and hemostats in her hands, gently hushing Sasha when she stirred. 

By the time she was done, her eyes were heavy with sleep, and her limbs too weak to pull the damp and dirty clothes from her body. 

Near the front window, shadowed by blankets, she found an old chair to curl up in, her head against the window seal and her arms around her stomach, praying the tiny life inside still lived, and hoping Daryl would soon wander back as the skies started to grey again. With a sigh, and last glance at the old, muddy road, she was asleep, only the darkness occupying her dreams. 

 

 

It had taken a great deal of debating to trek back to the motel. The possibility of coming back and her not being there was enough to keep him in the on and off again showers throughout the day. He knew better than anyone there was no tracking in the rain. He'd circled at least a dozen times, spreading farther every time, but no signs were found; rain had washed away everything that might have been left. 

His eyes dragged just as his feet, kicking up mud and puddles bitterly. No point in staying dry now. If she'd seen him like this, he knew she'd strip him and demand he walk naked in the rain to wash off. The door for the room came faster than he expected, and he silently slipped in. Old blankets were against the windows and furniture turned- make shift beds across the ground. He almost walked completely by Michonne, and literally jumped back to look at her. He spun, eyes jumping from face to face until-

“Let her sleep- she stayed up lookin’ after everyone.” Michonne said silently, leaning back against the headboard of a bed. He looked confused, but then he found Sasha, in a deep sleep and her condition apparent. 

“What happened?” he asked, moving closer to her and noting the light bruises on her face. He felt his heart race. 

“Ambushed.” Michonne only answered, and he looked back at her desperately, wanting to ask but too afraid to. His fingers tapped nervously on his thigh and for a moment he didn’t know how to move. But finally, he grabbed a separate chair and sat it in front of her, and slowly, carefully, pulled her legs straight until they rested over his thighs as he sat. 

Rosie stirred, and her crusty eyes barely opened to see him. Her hand slid from her stomach to grab his; her fingers were dirty with mud. 

“Been wandering around in the rain?” she whispered. 

“Somethin’ like that.” he said. His eyes roamed her, trying to assess any serious injuries, mainly any bites. But she looked unharmed...ish. Her shirts and jacket were torn and tied together; his brows furrowed, and he looked back to her.

Her eyes said it. They were the window to words unspoken. Daryl swallowed, and his fingers started to tap again. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, being very careful to say each words clearly. She only nodded. That was all that needed to be said about that. Narrow eyes shot to her stomach. 

“‘N- ‘n him?” he asked, his hand cautiously moving to press flat against her. Rosie’s hand over his calmed him down some. 

“So far so good.” she answered. He sighed, adjusting her legs over his. 

“I had a huge speech ready to scream at you when I got here for leaving me behind.” she confessed, feeling sleep start to lull her body again. “Good thing I wasn’t here.” he joked, but she only shook her head. 

“Expect an ass kicking when I’m not tired.” she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. 

“Mhm.” he said, watching her eyes flutter, and then her head lolling against the window. 

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, was all he could think watching her. 

The guilt was great, but the relief having her by him again was greater. 

 

 

He’d stopped to rest with her, swearing up and down he didn’t need to be anywhere else. But there was no resting. He fidgeted, and switched the crossing of his legs at least a dozen times, threatening to wake Judith up on the bed. Michonne looked at him. 

Rick scratched his scruffy beard, his eyes a million miles away but planted on the blank, peeling wall in front of them inside the dark motel room. 

Michonne bit her cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

He pursed his lips. “Babies.”

“I hope you mean the boom, not makin’ them.” she said, her brow bowing. He only rolled his eyes, the slightest of grins hidden. “Y’know what I mean.” he retorted. 

“Upset?” she asked, folding her hands over her stomach. 

“Nah, just- worried. Another mouth to feed, more noise in the world. More of a moving target.” he said quietly, not wanting Abraham to catch wind of the troubles in his mind. He glanced over at the two- Sasha had slept almost that whole week, only rising to relieve herself and when someone made her eat and drink. It was safest to let her rest and the swelling in her face and brain that had compromised her vision go down. But Abraham was always close, always listening, and still sour from the whole situation. 

“If we’re lucky it’ll come out mute like Daryl.” she joked, and he chuckled. 

“Who knows. Never thought I’d see the day that Daryl DIxon was expecting a little one.” 

“Especially on the move.” 

He sighed. “I pray we find somewhere to settle before she pops.” 

“That’s a while from now.” 

“Still concerns me.” Rick rested his head against the bed frame. Her knee bumped his when he started to fidget again. A moment of stillness, but he’d go back to moving something. 

“Wish I had time to run off and make babies.” she whispered, and Rick snorted loudly. 

“You and me both.” 

Michonne’s eyes wandered around, counting head. Carl had accompanied Glenn and Maggie on their trip to the gas station and shops down the road, but Daryl and Rosie had snuck out somewhere along the lines. She fought back a smile. 

“Where are they anyways?” she asked. With hands making quotations, he answered, “Supply run.”

She laughed, slapping his hands down. “Really?”

“Why you think they go on so many?” he added. “You hush now.” she said, shaking her head. 

When a longer than normal silence passed between them, she rolled on her side to look at him. Those blue eyes were dark- aggravated. 

“Rick.” she said his name softly, trying to lull him from his dark corner. Usually it worked- just the sound of her footfalls approaching him could make his world calm, and the darkness fade away.

“Would you be so bitter if life would’ve been normal?” she asked. 

“No- I’m not bitter. Circumstances would’ve been different-,” with a hand on his chest, she stopped him. 

“That’s it though. Look at our circumstances. It’s undoubtedly an awful time to raise children, but it’s the best we can do- the best we’re all doing. You did it- Maggie, the good people left in the world are doing it. They can also. Don’t let this be something that stops us from moving forward.” she told him, rolling onto her back again and adjusting her pillow. The cuts on her face were sore, and now she was feeling annoyance creep up on her. 

“Not stop- stall.” he finished. 

 

 

She crept, almost on her distended belly, her eye line barely above the high grass and underbrush. The soft pattering of the drizzling rain around her on leaves and the forest floor filled her ears, but would it be enough to cover the noise she made? Every move she made felt so loud- but Daryl’s movements behind her were ghost like; he glided over the terrain, even as he handed her the crossbow. Rosie slowly pulled it from under her, and aligned it with the deer a few yards ahead of her. 

She rested more on her side than stomach, and he leaned over her, moving her shoulders and pulling her elbow back to assist her aim.

She took her time, ignoring the rain dripping down her face and the dull throb of her bruised cheek against the sight, concentrating on pointing the arrow where it should hit. 

“Exhale as you aim n’ shoot.” he whispered in her ear, still not disturbing the wild animal. It’s ears flicked and it’s large, black eyes looked everywhere, but they were hidden amongst the trees and leaves. She pinched her eye shut, and exhaled, then pulled the trigger. 

The kick back shoved her back and bumped her cheek, but she caught the arrow piercing it’s ribs before it bounded away in a haphazard fashion. Rosie sat up, her head hitting his chin; he grunted.

“Shit!” she cursed, grabbing her face. He grabbed the crossbow and pulled her arm to stand. 

“It’ll go down soon, we just gotta track it now.” he said, jogging to where the blood trail started. He could still hear it crashing against other bushes and eventually letting out a strangled shriek. 

“If I’d gotten the head it would’ve gone down.” she mentioned walking after him. 

“You don’ shoot for the head. If ya miss, you can shoot off the jaw and they’ll still live ‘n starve to death. In the lungs it only takes a few minutes.” he explained. Rosie nodded, matching his steps over the wet ground. He’d grab her hand over any small leap of parted land or a fallen branch, hyper aware to anything that could harm her. 

“Isla?” he said the name suddenly, and she looked at him. 

“Isla?” she repeated. He waited for a response, but she only shrugged, looking back to the ground. 

“Theo?” she tried, but now it was his turn to shake his head. “Wyatt?” he said, and she snickered. 

“No?”

Rosie shook her head, scrunching her nose. 

They walked through a small creek, pausing to fill their canteens. 

“Lily?” she asked, her voice fond over the name. He looked at her then, the name striking a cord, one that sat pleasantly with his heart. He started to say something, but she tugged down on his arm. 

The tent was hidden well. If it hadn’t been for them following the trail of blood left behind, even wandering wouldn’t’ve brought them to it. They could see where the deer ran through, brushing against the tent and leaving a broken pole and blood smear. 

“Stay ‘ere.” he hushed, swiftly standing and walking with his bow raised. He gave her no time to protest, but she still grumbled and watched, lying flat. He covered their surroundings, and kicked suspicious plots that could’ve been traps, and eventually cleared the tent filled with belongings before signaling for her to join him. But she passed him, and crawled into the tent to rummage as he lifted an old pot lid over a dead fire. “Rose, don’t just jump in there.” He sighed angrily, trying to go about his own investigating, but he was jittery. It didn’t bother him when she’d just jump into things before- but now it made him… annoyed? No, worried. Overly worried.

“It’s empty.” she called back, flipping through books and piles of clothes, inside old boxes until she found-

“Aha!” she exclaimed, poking the end of a rifle out so he saw. “Okay, c’mon.” he said, holding the flap back for her. She loaded the gun and pumped it, stuffing the rest of the ammo in her bag. But then she stood straight to look at him, trying to level with his eyes despite being shorter. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You lose your nerve?”

“No.”

But she stared at him. He couldn’t lie to her; she saw too much of him. 

“Too much’as happened. I feel like if ya- fall or somethin’ you’re gonna break. Ya’ave too much to watch after now.” he answered, going back to pick up the few canned foods he found. 

“You never treated me like that before.” she said, and he turned back to her. 

“You weren’t pregnant before.” he mumbled. Rosie grabbed his shoulders, stopping his erratic movements. 

“This too much for you?” she asked, and he rolled his head back, sighing. 

“No, no, no- I’ve told you, no!” he exclaimed, but she shook her head and held his still. 

“I am not gonna break. I know it’s like I’m a bubble now, but I’m not. I’m not.” she reassured him. The tension was still in his hands that held her arms, but he nodded. He had to believe her. 

“On your left.” she whispered. He wanted to question it, but he sidestepped instead when he saw the sharp arch of her brow in time for her to raise the shotgun in hand and point. The bang rang through the quiet woods, silencing singing birds that how took flight, but then it was silent again after the familiar thud of a body falling. 

It was an older man- dirty and with a pistol in his hand when Daryl rushed over to him. She hit him in the cheek, blowing apart that portion of his face. He looked to have been on the unluckier end of everyone's situation. He reeked, and he was barefoot, mud coating any exposed skin under his old clothing.

“God damn, woman.” he said, searching his body and putting the pistol in his belt. 

“Probably his camp.” she said, returning to the tent to finish searching through it. Daryl finished and looked at her with the gun in her hand- hand, not hands. Hand.

“You always shoot shotgun with one hand?” he asked. 

“Yep.”

“Never saw you do that before.” he mumbled, and she chuckled as she came back out with two new books in hand. 

“‘Cause you were always lookin’ at my ass.” she said. He only scoffed, and strapped the crossbow across his back. 

“Best we get goin’.” he said, but she was already picking up on the trail again as she tied up her wet hair. “Might finally get a decent dinner tonight.” she said, touching a chipped piece of bark with blood and fur on it. 

“Gotta start makin’ this a regular thing.” he replied. She gave him a questioning look, even after he pointed at her belly. 

“Kid needs t’come out kickin’ ass if he wants to live in a world like this.” he explained. “I mean, true- but either way, she’ll be good and strong.” she said, curling her arm around his. 

“How you so sure it’s a girl?”

“I dunno actually, but when I try to imagine it, I never see a boy.”

Daryl bit his cheek. “Can’t imagine havin’ a daughter.” he said. 

“Little girl with your eyes and curly ques wandering around after you?” she asked, looking up at him. That seemed to put it into better perspective- she saw his cheeks flush. “How you even teach ‘em to walk?” he asked, almost incoherently as he ran his hand down his face. 

Rosie jumped when they finally came across the deer, still moving around the forest floor, but opted to stay back as it started to kick at the sight of them approaching. He made quick work of putting it out of its misery, and waiting for it to finish moving before pulling the arrow from its ribs. 

“The same way you helped teach Judith.” Rosie said, and he looked back at her. 

“Huh?”

“I used to see you walk down the streets with her in Alexandria.” 

He smirked at her. Rosie chuckled. “What?” she asked. 

“I knew I saw you givin’ me looks.” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t deny it!” he said, leaning down to hoist the deer over his shoulders. Rosie stepped close to him, her warm eyes making him take a half step back. Intimidating, this woman. Alluring, she always was. 

“If you saw me that means you were looking, too.” she said, placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

She started to walk away, but yelled back, “Don’t deny it!”

 

The dinner had knocked most of them out. It wouldn’t be wise to take the meat with them once they left in the morning, so they gorged, enjoying the rich steak until there was only a few ribs left in a pile by the extinguished fire. 

Daryl’s eyes opened again. He kept trying to fall asleep, but like so many other nights, sleep evaded him. He’d lost count how many times he felt the baby swirl under his hand somewhere after twenty. It was light, and gentle, and so small. The first time Rosie had grabbed his hands days ago to place on her stomach with a beaming smile, he almost jerked his hand back, startled by such a sensation. But she pulled him back, cooing, ‘That’s your baby.’ 

He was glad his hair hid his glossy eyes in that instant. He was hooked after that, telling her to tell him anytime it moved. He’d stop midwork to place his hands on her, grinning every time. Falling asleep, he’d count how many times he could feel it move; it was such an active little thing. But tonight, with his arms around Rosie and his hands on her stomach as she snoozed, he couldn’t stop his eyes from opening and staring, sometimes at Rick who was turned away, staring out the window. Was his mind too active to allow him rest also?

He finally rose, being sure not to disturb her. Everyone else was asleep, snoring softly or silent as the dead. He looked around- not for anything, but he still felt like he needed to find something. So restless. With a sigh, he scuttled off the bed and wandered over to Rick, sitting in the chair beside him. The night was bright- they could see pretty far down the road and any stray walkers that drifted by. 

“No sleep tonight?” Rick asked under his breath. Daryl shook his head, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his knife and small grain he’d been carving. Rick nodded. 

“Spent a lot of sleepless nights staring out windows when Lori was pregnant.” he said, and Daryl looked away from his hands, only for a moment. Rick looked at him. 

“Y’alright?” his friend asked, but Daryl only shrugged. “My head just feels like… busy. Can’t get a moment a peace.” he mumbled, blowing dust from his hands, but then he stopped, and looked out the window. It was quiet- should’ve been the best time to sort his thoughts, the rampaging emotions in his gut. But it swarmed him like racing winds. 

“Does the worry ever go away?” he asked Rick, still not looking at him. 

“Nope, ‘n when they’re born, you go from worried to scared shitless.” he chuckled quietly, and patted Daryl’s back when he hung his head in his hands. 

“Being a parent- it’s hard even if life would’ve been normal; it’s scary. You look at things as a new threat you never considered being one before. But when you see that baby for the first time- that fear you’ve had waiting for them immediately becomes bravery, and a crazy kind of love. They center you- complete pieces of you that you didn’t know were missing.” Rick told him, recounting the first moments Carl was brought into his world, and holding Judith for the first time.

“I’ave no idea what I’m doin’.” Daryl muttered, sitting back in the chair. 

“You’ll learn.” Rick assured. “At least she knows what she’s doin’.” Daryl said.

“Medical training will only help so much.” Rick commented, and Daryl side-glanced at him. 

“Rosie had two kids- toddlers.” he corrected, and Rick looked at her. 

“Passed?” he asked quieter, and Daryl nodded.

“That’s a shame. But your heads need to come together. That baby needs it’s mother and father working as one. Takes two to raise a baby- especially in this world.” Rick told him, and Daryl looked at him a while, his words sinking in. The former sheriff could see him trying to organize this thoughts, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He knew there was no real way to prepare to be a parent; it was a learning process until the end.

“I thought.. I hoped we could stay in Alexandria. That we could grow old, and raise our families and each other together. But even though we’ve gone, and we’ve lost some, we’re still together. We can still grow old. We can watch our children take the world back and make it right again, long after we’re gone.” Rick said, and Daryl nodded slowly. We can do this, he repeated to himself. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” Rick said, gripping his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.” he added. Daryl let out a long breath, his fingers fiddling with the knife and pendant, but in the end, he nodded, and felt some of the crushing weight fall from his shoulders. It got easier to breathe, and the future didn’t seem so dark. 

Eventually, after asking Rick unending questions about fatherhood and being more than a boyfriend, maybe even a husband- he crawled back beside Rosie when the grey of the morning started to leak through the trees. He held her tight, burying his face against her neck, and drinking her in. Daryl had plans after that long talk- ones that he hoped he had the courage and capability to carry out, and ones that he could only accomplish with her by his side. 

 

 

The cold was biting, and sudden. When they left for the last stretch of highway before hitting Colorado, it was only chilly. But to see snow so soon, after just entering? It was like waving goodbye to summer and stepping into winter. They had been unsure of what it was when they found the pile of bones beside a burned down building whilst passing through an old town, but once Carl had shuffled around the rubble, he found more piles- ones that weren’t burned and still had rotting meat on them. 

“They’re jaw bones.” Sasha mumbled, hanging one off of her knife. They all looked at it, puzzled, and spooked. 

“See any walkers with their faces half gone lately?” Glenn asked, holding Hershel tighter against his chest. They shook their heads, still staring. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be settling in this area.” Michonne suggested. “Who ever took the time to take jaws off of walkers has to have something wrong in the mind.” 

 

 

Rosie settled deeper into her jacket before placing her elbows back on her knees, her cheeks rested in her hands as they both stared at the house. A gated home- almost close to the size of a plantation with a wide backyard behind it, and the ever comforting forest behind that. It was far from any main roads, but it was still a coin toss; there could be someone inside, or the inhabitants could be out. Either way, they wanted it. 

“It’s worth looking at.” Rosie said, staring at the unbroken windows. “Could just be luck.” she added, and Daryl scoffed. 

“Nah, too easy- too untouched.” he argued, handing her half of the stale granola bar he’d been eating. She tried not to snatch it; pregnancy made her so hungry. He always split his share with her, insisting the little one got as much as possible. Even when she denied his offers, he’d just leave it beside her and walk away. It was cute, really, how determined he was to get that baby good and healthy before she popped, and he wasn’t shy to make that known in front of the others. 

“We could set two groups- one in front and the other behind, and move from the back forward. If someone’s there, we won’t get caught in back.” she explained around a mouthful of food, stuffing as much as she could in her cheeks. He couldn’t deny it was a solid plan, and if it all worked out, they’d finally have a new home. Assuming other people didn’t show up a different time. 

“I guess.” he mumbled, shifting a bit next to her, and then looking at the way she was sitting. “Aren’t you crushing him?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes and shook her head. He didn’t understand why she liked to squat like that- said it was easier to stand back up. “She’s fine.” Rosie retorted. 

“Still with that, huh?” Daryl asked. 

“My son made it impossible to stand. I’d get dizzy right away- I couldn’t even go for short walks without feeling like I was gonna pass out, and he sat high. This little one doesn’t make me feel like a walking accident waiting to happen and is sitting right on my bladder, just like my daughter did.” she explained, standing and wiggling some of the numbness from her legs. 

“We’ll see.” he said, standing beside her. This was an ongoing argument they had that wouldn’t be resolved until the small one made their appearance, but he still enjoyed poking fun at it. “You’re hanging back.” he added, and she glared at him. 

“Excuse me?” she snapped, and he looked at her. 

“Both of you are.” he corrected, pecking her on the lips before walking back towards the camp they’d all set a ways down the old road. Rosie bit the inside of her cheek, tapping her foot in annoyance. 

“Well c’mon.” he said coming up behind her to grab her hand. “I can do just as much as I did before, y’know.” she said, but he kept walking. 

“I know.”

 

It had been easy, which made it so unsettling. The cold house didn’t have much besides old furnishings and beds left behind. Everything was old and moth eaten, and the kitchen was mostly empty besides a small pile of canned food in the pantry and of course, the thick layer of dust that coated everything. But nothing seemed disturbed- no footprints in the dust. Better than nothing. But the entire place was huge and could easily fit everyone comfortably with some extra leg room. Various rooms were used for storage; old boxes filled with memories. But if they could clear the place, and assure that it didn’t belong to anyone, they could make it a home. That also included cleaning it up as best as possible for all the little ones that would be living in it too. The tall gate surrounding it was still in good shape- sturdier than a chain linked fence that would wobble and eventually fall. They’d not seen many walkers, and when they did, they struggled more than usual over the snow and ice. 

And as soon as Daryl walked into the room at the farthest end that had tall windows looking out into the front and a separate door leading to the backyard, he knew Rosie would like it. It was a perfect lookout, but also had a bit more privacy from the rest of the rooms. One final sweep of the perimeter and the okay from the few that were with him, and he stood on the porch and whistled, signaling the rest to come up. 

They emerged from the trees by the road, checking their sides as they crossed through the gates and up the porch. Daryl ushered everyone in, and finally Rosie walked up, lagging behind the group. She’d taken her time in locking the gate, giving the area another look before half jogging across the wide expanse of the yard and up the stairs with a hand held over her stomach. As always, he patted her stomach as she passed. 

“Everything good?” she asked, leaning against the door frame and pulling her jacket tighter around her extending waist. The rest were already making plans inside, preparing what to clean first and what needed to be thrown out. 

“Don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time.” he replied, keeping his eyes pointed towards the front. “Already claimed a room.” he said, and she smiled. 

“Is it a dark attic?” she teased, and he glared at her. “If it was would ya complain?” he teased back, and she shrugged. 

“Probably- I have good reason to be concerned.” she said playfully, arching her back to push her belly out a little more. “So do I.” he said. Rosie nodded, and pushed off the door frame to hold her hand out to him. “Show me to my chambers then, gringo.” He scoffed, but nonetheless showed her to the wide room. He was right- she liked it. 

 

 

He was quiet. Had been since they moved in, and all throughout cleaning. Whereas everyone else had settled in pretty comfortably, Rick still was on edge. Understandably, but it bothered Michonne to a degree. She wanted to enjoy these down times with him, but his stoic moods made it difficult. With their feet up and bottoms lounging in a plush couch, it was the first real upholstery they’d had the chance to enjoy since being on the run. With the rest out and about, Michonne just glared at him, trying to figure out his attitude. 

“Okay- what’s bothering you?” she finally asked, crossing her arms. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and crossed his arms as well. 

“Nothing. But that’s the thing- there’s nothing. I keep feeling like if we get too comfortable, we’ll be ambushed again. It happened at the prison, and then Alexandria. And now- nothing. We’re always at risk with Judith and Hershel. I wanna think, ‘here it is. This is where we start over again’- but I feel like I’m just waiting for it to happen again.” he explained, venting what had weighed heavily on his mind. 

“But we have another home. And we’re still here, Rick! Instead of looking at what we might lose, why not look at all we’ve gained?” she offered, but he only shook his head. “I don’t know if I can keep staying positive anymore. From the beginning I kept Lori and Carl and anyone we’ve found going, but after a certain point I want to be the one to worry- to not carry the decisions on my shoulders. Getting comfortable means accepting we could lose it all again.” he told her silently, recalling dark memories.

“I don’t know if I can do it anymore.” he added. 

“You do know.” Michonne said, and he looked at her. 

“Look what we just did? The determination you had to keep us moving here- to keep everyone safe. You’ve always known you can do it, but there will always be times when you want to stop. It’s natural, Rick.” she explained, and he listened intently. “Just like everyone else, you deserve to catch your breath. There will undoubtedly be a day when we’ll have to fight again, but for now, you should look around and marvel in what we have again. Hard work got us here- that’s not something to be under appreciated.” she finished. It was true- she was right.

It did no good to dwell on the past, but adjusting his attitude could favor their future. “You’re right.” he said, curling an arm around her shoulder and leaning over to kiss her. But then the front door swung open behind them, and they both spun to see Carl standing in the doorway. 

“You guys have to see something!” he exclaimed, and they jumped up and followed him out into the fresh layer of snow that had started to fall, and over to where Sasha and Glenn were looking at something in the ground by the fence. With their weapons in hand, they expected to find something alarming, but instead…

“Walkers freeze in the snow.” Abraham said, a wide smile across his face. Michonne sheathed her sword and kneeled beside it. It’s eyes still moved as well as its body still twitching, but it was harmless in this state, no longer a threat. 

“Told you!” 

They all turned to face Rosie who was layered up and leaning over the back fence, a toothy grin teasing them. 

 

 

They all took careful turns, playing small hands or passing. But Rosie was seasoned in this game, and could see the new players confidence waiver. 

“Pass.” Carl said, breasting his cards. 

Then it moved to Daryl, whose eyes immediately jumped to hers. She intended on trying to intimidate him with her glare, but every so often his equally intimidating eyes would get the best of her. She couldn’t get a read on him, and couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

“Three kings.” he said, laying his three cards face down. She couldn’t call him on it- she had no kings of her own. When no one else did, it moved onto Michonne, who was equally hard to read. She didn’t hesitate to say, “Four Aces.” All of them observed their cards, but still, no one called out. Then onto Maggie. 

“Nine nines.” she said confidently, smacking her cards down. 

“Bullshit!” Rick declared, and Maggie dropped her head, revealing her cards. Nine nines. Immediately the table erupted with laughter and comments, all aimed at Rick who would now forfeit his pile of once hidden packets of oatmeal and can of soda. He pushed his stash away angrily and exchanged for the large pile of cards in the center, not finding everyone's jokes awfully funny. He shifted through the cards, organizing them. 

“Three kings my ass.” Rick mumbled, and Rosie glared at Daryl. “Should’a called me out.” he teased. 

“Well now that he has almost all the cards it’s gonna be harder to make a move.” she snapped back, and slowly the rest of the group calmed as they collected their cards and waited for the next round to begin. “This game is stressful.” Glenn said, observing his small set. 

“This was my favorite game to play with my dad.” Rosie said, straightening her back a little when the baby stuck its foot up into her ribs; she pressed a hand against her stomach to persuade him or her back in the right direction. The small one had been doing that a lot, lately. “What’s it called again?” Sasha asked. 

“Burro.” she answered, her tongue rolling. 

“I’m gonna lose all my stuff…” Carl sighed, staring longingly down at his unopened deodorant and pudding cups. 

“Yeah n’ with all the stores ‘round here already trashed you ain’t gonna get ‘em back.” Daryl said, his tone arrogant, but he still hovered closer to his pile when Rosie glared at him.

“Ready?” Daryl asked, his hands hovering over his stash of bullets and cigarettes. Rosie pulled her candy bars closer, and observed her cards before laying two down. “Two fours.” she said. 

 

 

He pushed back when a foot, or hand… elbow maybe, pushed on his cheek. 

“Kick me n’ I kick back ya little shit.” he grumbled, using his scruffy chin to push the baby back. Rosie shifted, her bare legs stretching out and her arms resting behind her head. Exhaustion has strong hold of her. On top of Daryl thoroughly wearing her out, that day had been busy. Reinforcing the gates and clearing out spots in the backyard to set up small green houses. It had digging, and ripping weeds, then building. She’d actually broken a sweat despite the steady snowfall on top of heat flashes, and even though she enjoyed listening when he’d talk to the baby, she was finding it difficult keeping her eyes open. This room had that effect on her. This time of night, the wide, tall windows let in just enough of the blue haze, leaking onto their bed that sat across the wall from them. She'd collected blankets on top of blankets to hide from the cold, but loved the cold sheets when she stretched over them. Items collected for the baby were piled in the corner by the back door: play pen, blankets, beanies, a few onesies that Daryl himself had picked, saying ‘bumblebees are badass but fluffy’. Various collectives everywhere else. Clothes, curtains, and of course her books under the windows, sometimes his crossbow and knife joined them. This was their space- it calmed her, and lulled her into comfort. 

When he'd stretch her out before him on the bed, his silhouette crawling towards her, it always made her stretch in anticipation. Or when he'd watch her leave the room, he could see her walking outside through the tall windows, bundled in layers and trying to keep her ever growing stomach warm. This room was perfect. 

“That child is gonna think that’s their name f’you keep that ‘little shit’ thing up.” she mumbled. 

“That sounds like a good name. No one will wanna mess with ya.” he mumbled against the skin of her stomach, his fingers tracing the stretch marks down her sides. “It’s unique.” he added.

“White trash name.” she mumbled back, and he pinched her knee, making her jolt. 

“Don’t listen t’her. She’s just your ma, no big deal.” he said, and she moved to glare at him. 

“You realize even though you spend plenty time talking shit about me I have even more time to talk shit about you?” she asked, and Daryl glared at her. “You talk shit about me?” he asked, moving from his stomach onto his elbows. 

“Oh yeah. Like how your big and bad, all tough and stuff but your middle name is Mariah.” she said, and he sat up. 

“MICHAEL. I said MICHAEL.” he snapped, his wide shoulders making him look menacing.

“I heard Mariah.” she said, laying back down and rolling away from him. 

“Your mom is a liar-,” he crawled over her side, his naked body smothering hers as she laughed when he yelled at her stomach. “A liar! Don’t listen to her!” 

 

 

“I dunno… they’ll need to eat an awful lot.” Rosie said, her fingers tapping her chin. 

“Not to mention caring for them in the cold. Blankets, makin’ sure their hooves don’t overgrow.” Carl added. Rick and Glenn stared at the horses from inside, already settled in their doubts. 

The pair had literally come trotting in front of the house, kicking up snow and shoving piles aside in search of food, but it was Daryl who lured them in with scraps of veggies they’d grown, eventually corralling them in the large backyard. A mare and stallion- the mare being a rusty, dapple color and the stallion an impressive buckskin. Rosie loved them immediately, as well as Carl and Judith… and Michonne, and Abraham, but there was no doubt caring for them would be tricky. 

“I’ve passed plenty a barns around here. I can bring home saddles and bridles n’ maybe there’ll still be food layin’ around.” Daryl said, making kissing noises until one of them wandered over to him. It shoved his flat palm, searching for a snack, but lost interest and walked away.

“They’re in decent shape. Be good for runs- not as loud as cars and we can take them off the roads.” Carl said, walking over to the mare who was poking her head in the greenhouse. 

“You know about horses?” Rosie asked, and Daryl shrugged. “Enough.” he said. “Need names though, so we can train ‘em if they need it.” 

“More names to think of.” she sighed, walking in the house to retrieve blankets to put over them. 

“George.” Carl joked, and Daryl scoffed. 

“Metal n’ Gear.”

“Elk and Moose.”

“Sweeney and Pie.”

“Lip and Mandy.” Rosie interrupted them, shushing the cautious, tall stallion when she approached it with a blanket. Carl and Daryl eyed her. 

“It’s from a TV show I liked.” she shrugged, finishing tying it in front and walking over to the mare.

“Lip?” Carl asked. 

“Figure we can build a little shelter at the opposite end? Probably a fence so they don’t keep pokin’ their heads towards the food.” Rosie said, pulling on the mare’s mane to tug her away. Apparently, the decision had been made. But she knew better than to ask Rick about this one. As they tested their boundaries with the horses, seeing how they favored the weight of a rider and someone pinching their ankles to see if they’d allow them to work on their hooves, Carl and Daryl went on to tell her how they had had the horse at the prison. Michonne wandered out after a while, ogling over the shaggy horses that chuffed and whinnied when she brought apples. 

Everyone had their turn looking at the new arrivals, weighing their opinions and equally agreeing they'd be the best on runs. Judith giggled wildly, and little Hershel stuck his chubby arms out from his jackets to feel the shaggy hair. Even Rick couldn't help but scratch their noses, and mumble next to their ears somewhere along the lines of being a burden and beautiful at the same time.

 

 

 

Everytime he placed something back along the wooden beam, she was there right after him picking it back up and walking back to Lip. 

“Put it back.” Daryl barked, adding another jacket to his layers. Snow almost at their knees and wind that felt like knives- oh, what a winter wonderland. One jacket less and he’d be freezing with the walkers. 

“Nope.” Rosie pipped, unclipping the harness from around Lip’s neck once the bridle was buckled. He toyed with the bit in his mouth, but nonetheless accepted it. He was a finicky one, more on the skittish side of things. 

“We had a deal.” Daryl followed her now, grabbing the heavy saddle from her hands. 

“I’m not waddling yet!” 

“You can’t even zip yer jackets.” he argued. Rosie glared at him. 

“I’m going crazy.” she whispered, but he still took the saddle back to the beams.

“I haven’t been out to do anything since we got here!” she whined, crunching after him in the snow. “I sit, and watch, and count kicks and wait for you to get back so I can bother you cause everyone else is tired of me bothering them and then you leave again and I have nothing to do!” Rosie wailed. 

“Y’don’t bother me. But you’re too far along, Rose.” 

“Am not- and don’t tell me otherwise. I know my body and the fact I can look down and see that my stomach isn’t the size of a planet yet helps.” She stepped in front of him when she spoke so he couldn’t step away, but he just side stepped with saddle bags under his arm. 

“Can ya see your feet?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. 

“You’re too round.” he said quietly- that was a dangerous observation to make. She nearly smacked the cigarette from his mouth when he tried to light it after he finished strapping the bags on Mandy’s back. His expression was perplexed- when did she get so fiesty? 

“I can still load a gun and swing a bat-,”

“When yer shoulder isn’t bitchin’.” he interrupted.

“And I can still run. Everything is frozen right now and we don’t even use the roads anymore with the horses. You’re going for medicine, but I know the names.” Rosie snapped. There was a brief eye contact, but he still walked away from her. Her temper was boiling, ready to spill over and he was the unfortunate focus of it. His over protectiveness was cute at first. Now, not so much. The speed she spun on her heel could've sparked, and she was ready to scream at him until the snow shook from the mountains nearby. 

But she paused, and watched him carry the saddle she once carried over to Lip and throw it onto his back. He looked at her once it was buckled, and he sighed. He couldn’t deny he missed having her with him on runs. 

“Last time.” he said, and she smiled, smacking his ass as she walked by him. He hoisted her by the foot up, keeping a hand on her thigh as she steadied herself and adjusted the stirrups. Lip threw his head a couple times, stomping nervously. 

“Maybe you should ride Mandy.” Daryl suggested. 

“Nah, he’s okay. He just needs to get used to it again.” she said, tugging on the reins and walking him around the perimeter of the yard while Daryl finished getting the mare ready to head out. 

“Y’all have the list?” Maggie asked, walking from inside and pulling her jacket tighter around her waist. “The medicine one.” Daryl answered. 

“Here. We need a few more things to fix that wall Lip kicked in, and if you spot a clothing store, mark it.” she said, and they both opened a map to cover where their next trek would take them. 

 

“If you would’ve taken the bike, you wouldn’t’ve put up such a fight.” Rosie said, riding beside Daryl in the snow. It was quiet and still besides their hushed talking. Their heads always on a swivel, but since the snow had fell heavy, there wasn’t much of anything left. 

“I can control a bike. It ain’t gonna jitter ‘round like that damn one does.” he said, motioning towards Lip. 

“He’s not that bad. Probably senses you don’t like him.” Rosie said, leaning down to smooth the stallions gnarled mane. He chuffed, and side stepped a little when the weight on his back shifted. 

“No, that’s a damn finicky horse. Rode one just like ‘im back on Maggie’s farm. Fuckin’ thing threw me down a cliff.” Daryl grumbled. Rosie looked at him. 

“That one prolly didn’t like you, either.” she said, and he glared at her. 

Small chattering accompanied them along the winding back trail through the snowy woods. Daryl would ask constantly if she was okay, reaching for Lip’s reins anytime she stretched uncomfortably or held a hand over her stomach. She’d shoo him away, insisting he was paranoid.

Damn right he was. Not even including Walkers and the downfall of the world, there were a hundred things that could go wrong in a pregnancy. Now? Thousands. Even if he tried, he couldn’t bear to be more than fifty feet away from her unless she was around the others. He was adapting to the anxiety, but it wasn’t as easy as picturing little humans in the clothes he picked out himself. He wished he could skip the pregnancy and the all too dreadful birth he didn’t look forward to and just hold his damn child already. 

“Stop and fill the canteens?” she asked when they came up to a river cutting viciously through the forest.

“Nah, that waters too fast to be stickin’ our hands in. Banks too slippery.” he said, moving Mandy in front of Lip so she couldn’t get any closer. The speed at which it moved had prevented it from freezing over like the other smaller streams and ponds they’d come across.

“That means we can’t go through it.” she mentioned.

“There.” he said, bumping the horse's sides with his heels so she’d trudge through the snow towards a bridge he saw peeking through the trees. 

The loud roar from the water made Lip agitated- he swung his head and would skip nervously. Rosie shushed him, pulling back on his reins and letting him move at his own pace over the metal bridge the water ran under. 

“I swear, if he throws you-,” he started to say, but she waved her hand. 

The sky was orange and purple by the time they made it to the town, if you could really call it that. A gas station, convenience store with a pharmacy connected to a laundry mat and a couple houses weren’t much to make a town, but it was better than nothing having rode a few hours. Maybe getting a late start in the day wasn’t a good idea, but that morning, their warm bed had been too good to leave. 

“Who ever was here first got all the good shit.” Rosie said, throwing the last of the medicine into her backpack. 

“Win some ya lose some.” he said, finishing stuffing the rest of the items on his list away. 

Her quick hands stilled when she felt him press behind her, his own hands running up her sides. She smirked, the scruff of his beard tickling her neck where his face pushed passed her hair. 

“Daryl.” she cooed. 

“Hm?” he said, and suddenly his hands were under her jackets and squeezing her breasts. 

“Not here.” she said, trying to turn in his arms, but couldn’t help leaning back against him. 

“Too much noise at the house. Is’private here.” he slurred, turning her jaw so he could kiss her. 

“M-mm,” she got out, pushing him back. “C’mon, lets go back.” she was able to get out, but even she couldn’t deny the allure of his lips, or hands starting to slither down her stomach. 

“Nope- no, no no.” she giggled, escaping his grasp. He growled, adjusting his dick so it’s hardened length stood straight under his waistband. 

“C’mon, gringo.” she called behind her, walking out of the old store and into the cold snow again. 

 

 

“Nah- I still like the other one.” he said, swaying back and forth with every step Mandy made along the road. A gentle snow had started to fall, leaving a light layer all over them. Rosie would ruffle her curls to shake the melted ice; he couldn't help but grin. She looked like she was covered in sugar.

“Really? Thought you said it wasn’t ‘relatable’.” she said, making finger quotations. 

“No, I said that about that Gee-yar-mo name.” he said said, trying to sound out the name. 

“Guillermo.” she corrected. 

“What ever. What about that other name? The uh- the one with the D?” he asked. 

“Daya? Meh, kinda got over it.” she said as the horses came back over the bridge again. The water sounded louder now that the sunlight was gone, only their flashlights to guide them through the night. 

“I'm still stuck on Li-,” but the sharp neighing of Lip pierced through the night, and Daryl looked over in time to see him rearing up harshly at a racoon hissing at the horse before skittering away towards Mandy. Rosie struggled to grip his mane, saddle- anything she could grab, but he moved wildly.

Daryl’s horse too rose on her hind legs, whinnying as she stomped in circles. 

He eventually calmed her, trying to direct her so he could look back to Rosie; he needed his flashlight on her so he could see.

When his beam of light finally hit her, it was in time to see Lip’s hooves slipping on the ice, and the massive horse sliding sideways towards the railing of the bridge. Rosie was there one moment, clinging to him for dear life, and then she was gone as Lip fell onto his side, kicking wildly to stand back up. 

“ROSIE!” Daryl screamed, jumping down from Mandy and bolting to the edge, not even paying mind to Lip charging off the bridge.

“Daryl!” he heard her scream, and caught the slightest form of her rushing down the raging, icey water before being sucked under. 

“Rosie, swim!” he yelled, throwing his crossbow and backpack off before hoisting himself over the edge and jumping in after her. 

It was immediate pain when he hit the water. It disoriented him- he couldn’t find the surface until he was suddenly bursting through it, gasping for air, and it was just more cold when the frigid air shocked him. But he had to get to her. 

“Rosie!” he screamed again, paddling through the rushing water. He hit fallen branches and boulders, sometimes the water pulling him under. Oh god, was she hitting the same ones he was? And why wasn’t she answering him anymore?

“Rosie! Rosie!” he kept yelling over the burning of his throat, trying to see in the dark, but his eyes were clouded and stung. His arms and legs ached fiercely from his heavy clothes weighing him down. He hoped he’d go numb soon so he could move faster. But no matter how many times he yelled her name, all he could hear was the screaming of the water. 

Tree after tree, seconds that felt like hours passed that he was swept down the river, trying to cling to anything to stop, but all he grabbed was ice. He kept calling for her, hoping that she had already made it to shore and could follow his voice. If she was okay, he’d care little how far he’d go down. 

 

It felt endless before the water started to calm, and he could feel the rough ground starting to come up under him. He was finally hitting a calm stream where he could stand, but it was difficult. Everything ached- no, burned. His arms, legs, ribs where he’d hit something, his lungs after he’d inhaled far too much water. 

“Rosie?” he still gasped, crawling from the water. He was so cold- his clothes felt like tight traps all over his body. But the frantic fear in his gut kept him moving, searching desperately. His eyes searching everywhere- where was she? Did he pass her? 

“Rose?” he called again, continually risking his cover.

Daryl?

He spun around. Did he hear her?

“Rosie where are you?” he called, struggling to stand but finally making it to his feet and pushing through the snow. Only dark trees, debris covered in snow and ice. 

He couldn’t even see the bridge anymore they fell from. 

“Daryl!” 

“Rose? Rosie talk to me!” he yelled. He knew he heard her that time. He started to jog, stumbling, but moving. He strained to listen, but the damn water was so loud. 

“Daryl help!” 

His heart stopped. She was screaming, and sounded frantic- like she was struggling. He was running now, back up along the bank in the direction of the bridge. That’s when he heard her. Her soft cries over the rushing water, and the pained screams she was struggling to silence. He could see something beside the water- was it a walker? His hand grabbed for his knife.

“Rosie?” he called, and when he saw her start to crawl farther from the water, his heart lept. 

“Rosie! Rosie- oh shit!” he cried, falling beside her. He embraced her tightly, pulling her farther up the bank. 

“Are you okay? What hurts? Is there-,” but he stopped. 

Blood had pooled around her in the snow, this much he could see. 

“Something's wrong-,” she forced out, holding her stomach. It bled from between her thighs, showing through her jeans. He couldn’t speak, but he still pulled her from the snow. Rosie yelled, clinging to him as a powerful contraction ripped through her. 

“The baby?” he forced out. She didn’t have to answer- what else would she be talking about?

“We- we gotta get back.” he said, pushing past his own discomfort and trying to help her stand. But she buckled, her body under the assault of rapid contractions.

“I can’t-,” she took a struggled breath. “I can’t walk back.” Her hands shook when she tried to tie her dripping hair up that clung to her face and neck. 

Daryl held her tight, bearing her weight as he looked everywhere. 

“Can ya make it back to the store?” he asked. She looked up at him, soaked to the bone and pale, but nodded, holding tight to him as he led them aside the river. Daryl looked back- there was blood dripping behind her. “C’mon, you can make it.” he told her, both of them shivering. He pushed her hair away, and could see the cuts on her cheeks where she must've hit something. She struggled beside him, her knees weak and the pain only intensifying. It wasn’t long before he was nearly dragging her through the snow. She wailed now, trying to stifle sobs when her body was given something close to a moment to catch her breath. But she was freezing where she staggered- both of them were. 

But Daryl clung hard to her, and stopped to hold her face against his chest every time she yelled. What could he do? How could he help her and the baby? Both of them- they were both in distress. It scared the shit out of him- what should he do?

It was the hardest walk she’d ever made. Tripping over branches and sometimes frozen walkers, all the while willing her body to stop what she knew was happening. But it seemed that just as they were on the brink of making it, Rosie couldn’t take anymore. 

“We’re almost there it’s right there!” Daryl said as she collapsed into the snow. 

“Pressure-,” she forced out, trying to get on her hands and knees with her eyes pinched shut. 

“I gotcha, c’mere-,” he whispered, gathering his strength and holding her bridal style. Rosie gasped, and took hold of him as he carried her to the store, watching his feet in the deep snow. 

 

 

Maggie giggled, her knuckles drumming gently against Hershel’s cheeks as he turned to try and nibble on them. He smiled wide when he spotted his mama, and Glenn smiled along with them. 

“He’s a biter.” his dad said sleepily, nestling deeper into the warm covers. 

“Oh don’t say that.” Maggie said, rolling on her back to pull the wiggling baby on top of her stomach. 

“Mama, maaama- say mama.” she tried, but the little boy only giggled and flapped his arms, instead looking at Glenn who poked his belly. 

“Y’know- it’s only Michonne and Sasha that have to add to the group now.” he joked. Maggie scoffed. 

“I think they’re learning from our… predicament.” she replied. 

“If Daryl can be a parent, so can they.”

“Technically, they’ve already been.” she said, holding Hershel’s hands as he swayed back and forth. Glenn nodded. 

“One more to go.” Maggie sighed. 

“What?”

“I just think of Lori- how it went so wrong so quickly.” she said silently, holding steady onto her son. She was blessed- she couldn’t imagine not being around to see him, or imagine making the decision to give her life in the wake of his. She’d have made it, but to be in that moment? 

“Rosie’s seasoned too- she’ll know what to do.” he reassured. 

Hard knocks on their door made them jump, and before Glenn could rise, Sasha had barged in.

“Glenn, we gotta go. Rosie got thrown off her horse and Daryl said she’s bleeding badly.” Sasha said urgently, already pulling on jackets. 

“Oh my god!” Maggie exclaimed, sitting up. 

“Where are they?” He asked as he pulled his boots on. 

“The town they were headed to- they lost the horses.” she said before leaving the room. Maggie’s hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. 

 

“Hello? Hello? God damnit!” Daryl yelled, throwing the walkie against the wall. The water finally drowned it, rendering it useless, but they had been lucky enough to get ahold of the rest of the group. But now they had to wait. 

Rosie was still contracting, on her hands and knees trying to stay quiet and calm, but her body rippled with unimaginable pain.

She kept bleeding. And she kept crying. 

“They’re comin’ now, Rose, just hang on a lil’ longer.” Daryl pleaded, kneeling beside her. 

This was awful. There was so little he could do. 

“I can’t- I’m not gonna make it that long.” she sobbed. 

“Shut up- you’re gonna be fine.” he snapped, holding her cheeks. 

“No, Daryl- I have to push.” she forced out, and he froze. 

What?

What? 

“Push? What’ya- push? But you’re not-,” he stuttered, and she grit her teeth and sat down, sweat starting to line her brow. 

“This is labor- I’m in labor.” she gasped, looking down at her bloody jeans. Daryl was still frozen, trying to comprehend. He heard it, but it didn’t make sense. 

Or maybe he’d just been denying it until that point. 

That was it. He knew what was happening, just didn’t want to accept it. It was all spiraling downward so fast. 

“Can you wait? Can you-,” but she screamed this time, curling inwards as the fire along her belly drained her. She could only shake her head as she fell back, weakly gripping his hand. 

Of all things she’d dealt with and moved on from, she couldn’t do this without him. She needed him more than ever, more than anyone that had ever been in her life. He had to be her light in this darkest of hours.

“Please- please, I can’t.” she begged breathlessly. He looked down at her, biting back his own sobs of terror. He leaned down over her, holding her cheeks and resting his forehead against hers as she cried. Her skin was so hot- he thought it’d be freezing. He wanted to take it all away, take this whole moment back. He’d never let her leave the house- she’d be safe at home, waiting for him. Even if he’d fallen off that bridge, this wouldn’t be happening. 

“Tell me what t’do.” he choked out. 

“Pants-,” she coughed, leaning up on her elbows. 

He pulled her boots off and peeled the wet jeans off with her panties after she'd taken a few of her soaked jackets off, blood and all just as she curled inwards from another contraction. 

His hands recoiled when he reached for her. He felt adrenaline pulse through his body.

“Rosie? Rosie I think I can see the head…” he mumbled. She nodded. 

“I k-know.”

He looked at her. How long had she- they, been like this? 

“You need to push.” he stated. Rosie nodded with her hands covering her face, and took another breath as she sat up on her elbows. 

She waited, steadying her breathing, watching it blow out in plumes of steam before her in the sharp light of his flashlight. And she counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

She pushed as another contraction rocked through her, finding the last of her strength left inside.

He wanted to back away- he didn’t want to mess this up, but the sight before him kept him grounded. It was equally terrifying and captivating watching her push the baby out; watching her tear herself apart. Rosie screamed, her fingers digging into the wooden floors beneath her as she tried to move her mind around the insane pain. 

With shaking hands he held her knees apart, and she exhaled when that one subsided. 

“You’ve got this.” he whispered. His shaking voice wasn’t convincing. 

Again, she counted, and her face turned red as she pushed. 

There was sharp burning and then relief. 

“Heads out.” he announced, and he finally moved his hands to hold the tiny head.

It was small. Too small, too early to be born. 

Her hand reached down, and her fingertips brushed it’s wet head. Despite what she knew was coming to an end, she still smiled sadly, and prepared herself again. 

“You’re almost there.” he said, readying his bloodied hands. She didn’t know why, but that small, flickering second before she pushed again, her mind took her back to a time before all of this. When she was in her home in Manhattan, and by chance taken a peek at her kids watching TV, and found herself watching them in amazement. They’d laugh at funny moments and grow quiet in tense ones, and she could see tears brim their eyes when the characters cried. Her heart swelled as she watched them.

She’d never have those moments again. 

With tears escaping down her cheeks, she pushed one more time, the blood vessels bursting in her eyes and the tiny baby leaving her body with one final spin in her pelvis. Her body fell back, and she exhaled hard.

It was so small in his hands, so small he almost didn’t catch it. 

And it was a baby girl. 

He cradled her, pulling her close to his chest and staring down at the small, bloody, unmoving baby in his hands. Steam rose off her skin in the cold air. He felt tears sting his eyes. 

“She’s not movin’.” he croaked, and Rosie weakly reached for the baby. “A girl?” Rosie asked, and he handed her to Rosie. But her face twisted, and she rubbed the little girl's back. 

“Cry, cry…” she whispered, smacking her back. Rosie pinched the cord- still nothing. 

“No, no, no please.” she wept. She knew this was to happen- before she even saw her daughter’s blue skin, she’d known she was dead. “Baby girl- mi hermosa, please!” she begged. He watched her, his chest tight and his body shaking. 

Was there even a second in there he could take for his own? Anything at all he could keep close to his heart, and say, for a single moment he was a father? No. He didn’t get that. She didn’t get that, and their little girl didn’t have a chance to take a breath. 

He saw the shine from the headlights outside, but he still looked at Rosie, crying loudly, holding their dead daughter. 

He heard them come in, and the silence that followed when they saw the horrific scene before them, but he couldn’t move. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

Could hardly think. 

He only felt the void blast through his heart, and start to grow. His world cracked, and quaked. 

Yet he still wished he could go back, and just make her stay home. 

 

Rosie and Daryl spent their last few minutes with her in their silent room, holding her hands and counting her toes. He held her on his forearms with her head cradled in his palms, staring down at the perfect blend of the two. She only looked to be sleeping, but her blueish skin said otherwise. He didn’t want to let her go; he wanted to hold her like this forever. To keep her warm against his chest and close to his heart. 

“The name- the one we both liked.” he said quietly, his voice cracking. Rosie, with swollen eyes and tangled hair looked at her, and watched as his thumbs traced her cheeks. Her eyes pooled with tears. 

“Lily.” she said softly; her voice was gone. Daryl nodded, pulling the blanket around her tighter. 

“Lily Marie Dixon.” he told her, and Rosie’s face dropped into her hands. 

They buried her under the tree in the yard, both of them kissing her cheeks and holding her tight before she was laid in the cold ground. Daryl moved to grab the shovel, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw the dirt over her. Rick took it from him, holding his dear friend as he struggled to compose himself. 

 

 

He tried to ignore the gentle ribbons of blood that would sometimes float to the surface, but sometimes he’d just dunk his hand under the water to move them, returning to run the warm towel over Rosie’s skin. She looked vacant. If it weren’t for the times she winced when he’d scrub a scrape or cut on her body, he’d think she was dead. 

His own wounds stung when he submerged his arms to help move her sore body, but he ignored it. His clothes felt dirty- still stiff from the dried river water, but he could bathe later. 

Daryl needed to be by her now, not only for her sake, but for his. It didn’t resonate as loudly through him as it did her he was sure of, but to bare witness to the whole event left him damaged. Left her damaged. Everything, damageable. 

He sighed, and moved her chin so he could clean a scrape across her jaw. She groaned. 

“Sorry.” he murmured, dunking the rag again to let the water run down her scalp. 

When she moved, and stifled a pained moan, he helped her so she could lean towards him against the edge of the tub. His arms hung over the edge, his hands in the water. 

“Pain comin’ back?” he asked. “A little.” she replied. Her voice was gone, barely a whisper. 

He nodded. They both looked at one another, silently. 

He wanted to tell her she still looked so damn beautiful, but feared the words would only make her more emotional. And then, he thought maybe he should show her what he’d kept secret for so long. Would it be too much? But right now felt like the right time. Maybe it could help. 

He dug in his pocket, and pulled it out. He hadn’t even thought to search for it after being in the water, and now was thankful it hadn’t washed away. 

“It was supposed to be f’when she was born- I mean, actually… When it was right.” he stuttered, and handed it to her. 

She turned the flat circle in her fingers, and smoothed the surface with an arrow and rose crossing on it, carved intricately just like the one he’d made her. With a shaking breath, and her head leaning on his arm now, she held it against her chest. 

“What if it had been a boy?” she asked, trying to smile. 

“After you tellin’ me all the time you knew it was gonna be a girl, I couldn’t really see anything besides it.” he answered. “Wanted her to know I’d always have her back.” he said, his hand stroking her hair. She only nodded, but he could hear her sniffling. 

His chin rested on the edge, his eyes straying to another line of blood coming to the surface. He’d tried not to look at it, but there was also blood staining his hands, under his nails that didn’t come off in frantic moments he tried to scrub it away. 

“Daryl?”

“Hm?” he answered. 

“Im sorry.” 

He looked at her, but her face was hidden where she looked down from him. “For what?” he asked, moving his arm so she’d look at him. Those lovely, bright eyes were dim, and so sad. 

“I should’ve stayed home.” Rosie confessed. 

This thought had run across his mind, but he wouldn’t dare bring it up, or blame it on her. In all honesty it was the damn horses fault, but he would never pin that blame on her. 

“It’s my fault this happened.” Rosie looked back down. 

“No it ain’t. Lip threw you- this wasn’t on your hands.” he said, but she shook her head. 

“It was. Just like with Benny and Stella. I should’ve known better.” she silently wept, but his hands grabbed her cheeks and brought her face to his, silencing her gently. 

“You stop it. You can’t think like that. Shit happens- freak accidents happen but it’s not yer fault Rosie. Don’t do that t’yourself.” he said sternly, keeping her face close to his so she could see the seriousness in his eyes. Her hand rose to move his hair away, and could see the gravity of his words on his face.

She only cried, her head dropping towards him. He held her wet body, so limp and tired, but shaking with soft cries and words he couldn’t understand. Again his eyes drifted away, but this time to her deflated stomach. It was hard to believe that it was only a day ago he was feeling the kicks under his palm, and she was showing him how to wrap stuffed animals in blankets. Now, all they had was a grave, and fleeting memories of what she looked like. 

 

Week One

Keeping busy helped. Didn’t let them sit and drown under the bad that loomed. When the wounds at her center weren't a constant burn and her legs could work without falter, she wanted to be moving and helping again. That's how she more or less grieved with her first two. She kept walking, always moving, forever going forward. 

But she made it clear: “Don't treat me like I'm gonna break.” 

And no one did. She did everything she could before, maybe easier this time without her stomach getting in the way. But the absence in her belly and arms still had a deafening effect. Often she'd find herself standing slowly or pulling her shirts and jackets down to make sure she was covered, but it was just a small roll again. Darker stretch marks she'd stare at, but nothing more. 

At the end of long days though, Rosie would wander and often find Daryl outside, waiting for her before they both walked to Lily’s grave. 

Sometimes the others would leave small flowers or trinkets, and Maggie had knitted a blanket she had planned to surprise Rosie with. It hung over the small cross now, and she’d dust the snow from it every time they came. Sometimes she’d catch him wiping away tears, but never spoke of it. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

When almost a week had passed, Daryl knew something was off about her. She hadn’t cried after that initial day, and didn't show much emotion. But when she had joined Daryl and Carl outside to cut firewood, she stepped forward to grab for the axe after watching them for some time. That day in particular, she'd been angry for no reason he could pinpoint. But it radiated off of her like the heat of a fire. 

Her swings were mild and controlled at first- her arms rigid and her back straight. But then her arms started to swing higher, and loud screams would fill the silent woods as she threw her weight into each strike. She unleashed anger, sorrow, confusion, and past horrors that had come back to life. When Carl asked if they should stop her, Daryl shook his head. He knew she needed to let that darkness drain from her body. So they let her scream, and cry, and cut until she threw the axe. 

Many times he heard her beg, asking muddled questions of why they couldn’t have taken her instead, and even yelling at herself the stupidity she felt for ever leaving home that day. She cursed and cried, and broke and sliced.

That night, as she lay curled against Daryl’s chest, it was the first time since they'd lost Lily that he felt warmth return to her body. 

Week Two

He stared at him, his finger itching to pull the trigger. 

But Rosie was out here looking for them also, always mentioning how concerned she was about their wellbeing. He didn't understand why. He'd have no issue shooting the stallion and keeping the meat. 

But that’d be another blow to her heart, and for that, he'd hold himself back. 

Instead he threw his cigarette in the snow and walked to the nervous horse, grabbing the bridle to try and calm the rage in his body that made him bite his lip until he drew blood. 

“Fuckin’ asshole.” He said to Lip, who only nudged him with his nose. His saddle was gone and by the way chunks of his shaggy fur had been pulled out and scabbed over, he might've ran into a group of walkers that hadn't frozen over yet. It seemed in the cold they huddled closer together, not really ambling off alone like they did where snow wasn't on the ground. They weren't far from the bridge where it all happened, and it surprised him that the horse had stayed around the location, but Mandy was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she hadn't had luck such as his. 

He reached for the walkie on his shoulder. 

“‘Ey babe, you there?” He asked, waiting. 

“Right here, sugar lips.” Abaraham said, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah I'm here. Any luck?” Rosie asked then, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. It filled his heart. 

“Found Lip but haven't seen Mandy anywhere.” 

Rosie pursed her lips. “If she's not with Lip I can only assume she didn't make it.” She said. 

“Yeah, thought so. Meet you back at the car?” He asked, pulling Lip over to a fallen log. 

“See ya soon.” 

Daryl tested the bridle and bit, even laying across his back before swinging a leg over to see if he was comfortable. But it seemed Lip hadn't retreated any. With that, he chose to ride him instead of trudging through the snow, and kept a clear eye out for any wildlife that would spook him, and also made sure to stay away from even the smallest stream. 

Although Rosie was happy to see the stallion when they met up, Daryl still saw the apprehension in her body. She took her time letting Lip approach her, and not speaking when she was petting his neck, but he did hear her mutter, “Stupid horse.” 

 

Week Three 

 

She’d read somewhere long ago that the reason snowy landscapes seemed to be quieter was because snowflakes absorbed sound. Didn’t lessen the slight eeriness to it, but nevertheless, it was better to know there was an actual explanation and not just lack of life left in the white trees. Occasionally she could hear an owl call, or the ear splitting cry of an elk. It’d echo, traveling through the fields to the East and ending at the never ending trees to the West. Colorado was beautiful no doubt, but the night was creepy no matter where they settled. 

If she could stay quiet enough, sometimes lone walkers would stumble right by, icicles standing on end from their thin skin and covering their vacant eyes. 

She took a long drag from her cigarette, watching the smoke whisk away in the cold wind. 

Rosie jumped when Michonne clattered up the latter, a steel mug in her hand and bundled heavily with jackets and scarves. 

“You on watch too?” Rosie asked, scooting over to make room on the blanket. 

“Just restless.” she answered, sitting down with a sigh and handing her the mug. “Tea leaves in back were finally ready to be ground.” Michonne said, holding herself when a stiff breeze drifted by. 

It was warm, and sweet, just what she needed sitting on the snowy rooftop. 

Not much was to be seen during the night shifts. There was the treetops and mountains to look at if snow wasn’t looming in the distance, but it was always the same. Silence, maybe some walkers, cold. They both looked over to Lip, who was always moving, spooking at the smallest things. He trotted around the wide backyard, kicking snow and throwing his head. 

“It’s a wonder how he managed to live making all that noise.” Rosie said, blowing her smoke away from Michonne. 

“Mandy could still be around. Maybe someone picked her up.” she replied. 

“Could’ve. Past few stores we’ve been to looked like they’d had people in ‘em. Gotta be someone around here.” She flicked her cigarette, watching the glow die in the snow down below. 

“Don’t know if that’s necessarily a good thing, though.” she added. 

“If they haven’t come for us yet then maybe they just wanna be left alone like us.” 

“I hope so.” Rosie sighed, her eyes drifting over to Lily. She could see the small bundle of flowers Daryl had left her earlier in the morning, but they were already coated with snowfall. Michonne followed her gaze. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly. Rosie looked down at the mug in her hands, warming her chilled fingers. 

“I’m okay mostly- sometimes I’m not. It wasn’t as bad as when I lost the other two, but it’s like- I’m not all that shocked this happened. In a world like this, is it awful to say it’s better for her to have died sleeping than to grow and have her throat ripped out by a walker?” Rosie asked, not even having told this to Daryl. 

Michonne shook her head. “I get that.” she replied. 

“A peaceful death is wishful thinking nowadays. At least she was with me- not far where I couldn’t’ve said goodbye.” 

Michonne nodded. She half expected Rosie to have been withdrawn and listless from it all by the way she was the night they found her, but Rosie always came back on top. Her heart was a stone that refused to be broken if not chipped away. 

She swallowed more of the warm tea when an uneasiness shook her, and since Daryl was not around to press against, this would do until she could crawl in bed beside him. 

“I suppose New Years is in about a month.” Michonne stated. “Assuming I counted my days right.”

“Another year gone.” Rosie said, blinking a few times. “We should have a feast.” 

Michonne chuckled. “I want red wine.” 

“My dad’s enchiladas.” Rosie sighed. 

They both stared off, lost in what-ifs and daydreams that had popped into their head many times before. 

“Canned food will do.” Rosie said, letting her feet dangle off the roof. 

Michonne nodded. 

 

Week Four

 

Hershel cooed and grabbed for Daryl’s hair, giggling when he’d shake his head so his chubby hands couldn’t grab it. Rosie would laugh, ruffling his shaggy locks so the infant wouldn’t lose interest. 

“Little shit’s gonna scalp me by the time they get back.” he mumbled, wincing when the boy pulled harshly downwards. But he didn’t yell or react, instead let him tug mercilessly until Rosie untangled his hands. 

“Maybe it’s time for a cut.” she suggested, handing Hershel a stuffed animal with crinkly ears to play with instead of Daryl’s shoulder length hair. 

“Mm.” he only grunted, leaning back against the couch with Hershel sat in his lap. 

“Just a trim?” she asked. “Eventually.”

Soon the little boy reached for Rosie where he could grab her curls easier, but she’d laugh and pretend to bite for him, blowing raspberries on his neck to hear him giggle. Daryl chuckled, poking his side. 

Maggie was out with Glenn and Sasha, brushing up on her shooting since she’d stayed home with the little one the two watched now. The entire house was quiet and empty, but warm from the fire in the living room. Soon it’d be noisy again with everyone, but for the greater part of the day it’d just been the three of them lounging on the couches or crawling around the house. 

“I wanna go back.” Rosie said suddenly, looking at Daryl. He didn’t know what she was talking about. 

“To the store past the river.” she clarified. Daryl stiffened. 

“Why?” he asked, laying his palms upward so Hershel could slap them. 

“She’s here, but I want to go to where she was born. To say goodbye, I guess.” she said silently. “I know- it doesn’t make sense, but I wanna go.”

He looked at her, even turning his shoulders so he could see the full scope of the emotion on her face. But as always, she was calm and collected. 

“This been on your mind a while?” he asked. She nodded. 

“I’ll take ya. Not on that damn horse though.” he said, and she smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

“D’you think you're strong enough though?” He asked, worried she take it offensively. Rosie cocked a brow. 

“Think I'm not?” 

“I think y’think you are, but might not be ready f’what you'll see.” 

Rosie looked at him before scooping Hershel into her arms before she stood. 

“Will you be okay?” She asked. He didn't answer. 

“I felt it, but you saw it all.” She said. 

“I think the worst has passed, but I'm worried goin’ back will give you a new perspective on what I saw.” He explained. She nodded, coming back from fetching a bottle and blanket. 

“Even if I bring back more bad, I still feel the need to close that part. All I can focus on when I think of it is just cold and pain, and then seeing her.” She gave Hershel the bottle and plopped him in the corner of the couch and threw the blanket over him. 

“You've told me, but I wanna know what you saw, too. I need the full scope.” She finished, sitting at the edge of the couch beside him. He processed her words, but was still hesitant. Rosie was strong, but he felt that even she knew the first time she didn't go back to her kids in the old apartment was because she knew it would break her. Did she know something else this time? 

“I need to do this.” She added, holding his hand. 

Daryl sighed, but finally nodded and squeezed her hand. 

 

Week Five 

 

When she had stepped out of the truck, she didn't see the blood stains hidden under the snow that trickled into the store, covering the wooden floor that creaked when they stepped over it. But as she stepped further inside, she could see the spot where she laid before, screaming, begging, tearing. 

Daryl stepped in after her, pulling the doors shut and loosening the thick scarf around his neck. 

Their breath moved the dust kicked up from their feet, and the steam rose into the old cobwebs hanging. He moved to stand beside her, watching her hands fidget with the flashlight in hand that she hadn't yet turned on. Daryl moved her hair aside so he could see her face. 

“If this is too much-,” but she stopped him, taking another moment. 

The beam of light showed her the wide splatters of stained blood, and the smaller drops that led to the door. Some of it came back in pieces- like when she hit the first boulder beneath the water and felt a deafening quake in her body. After the third time she inhaled water and was slammed against another hard surface in the rushing river, the cramping started. Quick as wildfire and a ferocity to match it. 

She moved to walk around the blood stain, at an angle that would've matched how she laid on the floor that night. 

Walking to the store had been… there was no word to describe it. By then, she'd already felt the pressure in her pelvis, and the burning. 

Daryl watched her, staring intently down at the floor. She looked angry, but it could've been concentration. 

Her wounds were healed now. It didn't hurt to walk or sit. But she could so easily recall the ache that rang through her. And the biting cold of the water. And the loss that still sat in her ribs, sometimes making it hard to catch her breath. 

Rosie took a deep breath, and with her eyes still on the floor, she walked to stand beside him, her shoulder touching his. 

“Were you scared?” She asked. He nodded. 

“Every second of it.” 

Rosie looked at him. “Thank you.” She said. Daryl furrowed his brows. 

“You could've said you wanted to wait until the others got here. Or you could've just said no, and waited outside. But you-,” she paused, taking a shaking breath and looking to the floor. “You delivered her.” 

“Don't need to be thankin’ me for that.” He said.

“I do.” She nodded. 

“This is where I'll leave another baby.” She added softly, blinking rapidly to fight the moisture in her eyes. Daryl looked at his feet- he didn't like to think of it that way. 

Rosie sighed, and moved to walk to the front doors, Daryl close behind. Even with snow filling the air with a thick haze, they could see the rest of the ‘town’ they never finished clearing. She bumped his elbow with hers. 

“Wanna scope it out a bit?” she asked. He shrugged; might as well. 

There wasn’t much left, just like the pharmacy. All rummaged and broken, nothing left worth taking. Gas station was dry, the convenience store full of dried, poisonous food, and everything else was useless. He wanted to pass the laundromat, but she insisted, saying they could crack open a dryer and save the quarters for a casino night they one day planned to attend when the world wasn’t barren.

They pried the sliding doors open just as a strong wind had started to sweep down the road, bringing with it dark snow that looked to be a sudden storm. 

“Make it quick so we can head back.” he mumbled, walking away from her. 

She ambled- she knew there wasn’t going to be much left, but being out was refreshing, and it was nice there wasn’t a walker every ten feet like in the warmer parts they’ve been. 

“Someone came here for casino night, too.” she called out, counting all the quarter collectors that’d been torn from the machines. He scoffed, pushing a storage door open with his crossbow. “We need laundry soap?” he asked. 

“Always.”

Rosie sighed again, and loosened the scarf around her neck as she walked from the back towards the front windows. The old street signs flew horizontal in the gusts of wind; she bit her cheek. 

“Think we’re stuck here, amore.” she said, and he stood next to her, huffing. 

“These storms are somethin’ else.” He mumbled. 

“Blizzard.” She corrected.

“Got a walkie?” he asked. He called to Rick after handing it to him, but she had already sat down, holding her legs against her chest and watching the storm unfold. It howled and thundered, rattling the doors and windows, but there was always something peaceful about watching it from inside. Like they were so close to the elements, but untouchable. 

Daryl sat beside her, tossing aside the laundry soap. She giggled. 

“Should prolly start a fire with somethin’.” he mumbled.

“How has so much happened? In only a lil’ over a year?” she asked suddenly. Daryl looked at her. 

He shook his head; he knew what was going on. “I know that look.” he said. She eyed him. 

“Your mind is wanderin’ off to dark places- c’mere.” he said, holding open an arm until she scooted beside him. He was her anchor, one that ironically kept her from drowning. 

“Year’s a long time.” he told her, his hand rubbing her arm.

“Not that long.” 

“If y’gettin’ to know someone, sure. But a lot can happen in a time frame like that.” he argued. She craned her head back to look at him. 

“You know a lot about me?” she asked with a smile. He nodded. 

“Well tell me.” she said, and he chuckled, looking back at the storm to think it over. 

“I know that you'll be thirty-one next September, and that outta your three brothers ‘n sisters, you're the only one with a middle name. I know that you got that scar near your left eye from fallin’ off the bed as a kid. That when you get impatient, you do this thing with yer hands-,” he paused to scratch his head fervently, mimicking what he'd seen her do countless times. “That your favorite sound is a kookaburra squawkin’ and you like t’wear my jeans over yours cause the pockets are deeper.” 

Rosie chuckled, still looking at him. 

“I know that’chu sometimes touch my face when ya think I'm sleepin’, but I don't stop you cause I like it. I know that even if we ever have ‘nother kid and that one dies, I'll still be by your side again ‘n again cause even though we've only been t’gether a year, I love you more than the damn air I need t’breathe.”

She wasn’t prepared for that last part- the sudden confession. She’d heard him plenty of times tell her he loves her, weather it was a whisper in her ear as he held her after sex, or yelling it at her after a fight before leaving for a run. It still gave her butterflies, and made her smile widely. 

“I know a lot about you too, y’know.” she said in a whisper. 

He sat back then on his hands. “Let’s hear it, girl.”

She turned to face him, clearing her throat. 

“I know that you sleep better under trees than in a bed. That you hate it when people leave doors cracked instead of open, because you feel like someone will pop out from the other side. You don't have a favorite color, but you like anything dark.” She added. 

“You like older music- like Bauhaus and Neil Young. And that if it had been a boy, you wanted to name him Joaquin.” She said, watching as he’d give every one a nod. 

“And I remember some nights when I'd get done reading in bed in Alexandria, you'd come to my room to put my book on my nightstand, but I wouldn't always be sleeping.” Rosie said softly. 

“Not bad.” he said, and she rolled her eyes. 

“You got more?” she asked, shoving him playfully. 

He smirked. “One of them nights we were on a run, still in Alexandria- it was after gettin' the bike back and we were camped out behind some liquor store, and you downed that damn bottle a'rot gut n’ got fuckin’ hammered.” 

“Oh jesus.” she cursed. 

“Like hanging-onto-the-grass-so-you-wouldn't-fall-off-the-face-of-the-earth hammered.” He chuckled. 

“I remember the headache the next morning but not anything else so if you have something embarrassing-,” 

“You talked ‘bout me.” He said, his eyes locked with hers. 

“Shut the fuck up?” 

He shook his head. “You went on n’ on, talkin’ bout how you like my arms…” 

“Oh my god.” Rosie covered her face with her scarf. 

“And my ass.” 

“Okay we're done.” She leaned forward to try and cover his mouth, but he caught her arms. 

“But, you said how you really liked how even though y'could tell I hated doin' some stuff, I never hesitated t’jump up and help. Y'said that when I'm nervous I look down n' move side t'side.” His tone was more serious now, his eyes portraying something he'd kept to himself for a long time. 

“You still do.” 

“'N before you passed out, you said that you wished I'd been there the day your kids died. Cause I would'a ran after 'em. I wouldn't even’ve let it happen. You asked me why I couldn't've been your husband- their dad.” 

With wide eyes full of horror and her mind trying to recall any of this conversation, she stared at him. 

“I don't- I don't remember, I'm sorry.” She said, dropping her face into her hands.

Daryl swallowed the dry lump in his throat, and took a deep breath before pulling her face back up. Her brow furrowed- she'd never seen such an intensity in his face before, and never seen a fear equal to that in his eyes. 

“I wanna be your husband. Since the moment I met ya, I knew I'd be with you forever. We had a kid n' maybe we’ll have more but you've always been my girl. Even before a year- I knew it, knew it all along. You just learn some things faster than others.” He said slowly, carefully, softly. 

It took repeating it in her head a few times before she understood, and when she did, she gripped his chest. 

“You- you want me to be your wife?” She asked.

“I want you forever.” Without skipping a beat he said. 

“Forever?” She repeated, her voice lowering, softening and shaking.

“You'll be my wife? Will you marry me?” He asked, and it had been the first time she’d heard Daryl Dixon so unsure of himself, scared shitless of the words he'd thought over countless times in his head and tried working up to ask months ago. 

But his smile dropped when she covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes as she hid her face. 

“Hey…” he said softly, trying to pull her hands away. 

“Hey hey hey, Rose- did I…? Are you upset?” He asked, but she wiped her eyes and looked back up, shaking her head. 

There wasn't a verbal answer from her, but there was a searing kiss she planted on his mouth, and the small hand that held his head steadfast to hers. That was enough for him. 

He felt electric shocks throughout his body- all the apprehension and raw fear he'd felt hold him back anytime he'd work up to asking her dissolved, but now he was on fire. When was the last time they'd kissed like this? Before Lily, probably. As the realization that he hadn't kissed her passionately or touched her body in nearly a month and a half hit him, he groaned into her mouth as her tongue shoved his, his hands moving her curls aside so he could taste her. 

Heavy sorrow that had ached in their bodies vanished, and they became urgent, hungry, frantic as she pulled on him, bringing his body over hers when her back hit the cold floor. 

She embraced him when he nudged her knees apart, settling where he always belonged. 

Too many layers, she thought. He must've thought the same thing. Daryl pulled her up, his mouth never leaving hers as he helped slide the jackets down her arms, her shirts over her head, and his mouth dragging slowly down her craned neck, and across her smooth collarbones. She sighed, her fingers lost in his hair as wet kisses adorned her breasts that heaved into his mouth with every breath. 

An effortless twist of his hand unclasped the bra, and he pulled the straps down her arms, moving her hands above her head as he came back down to take an erect nipple in his mouth. She arched high into him, whimpering so long, so softly. 

Oh, he'd missed the taste of her skin, its softness. How her breasts felt against his face with every sweep of his cheek. She'd jitter under him, his goatee tickling her skin, but she loved the shivers it made ring up her body. 

His large hands traced the curve of her ribs, up and down, sometimes resting on the sides of her boobs to hold them steady under his mouth. 

She moaned and gasped, her voice cracking and whispering, her breath coming in plumes of steam before her in the dark room. 

He kissed her again, his arms swinging to throw off his vest and jackets, only detaching to slip his shirt off his head. Blunt nails dragged down his back and traced his scars, carving gently into his sides and making him wiggle, and she gripped his ass when he bucked against her again and again. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” she whispered in his ear, her eyes too heavy to open as she kissed his neck and shoulders. There had never been a burning in her body so vicious for him before; it was almost impossible to speak.

“What’chu want, Mrs. Dixon?” He whispered against her skin, his mouth trailing down against her stomach, dragging his lips back and forth across her abdomen, then using his teeth to bite gently at her hips. Rosie moaned loudly, her body rolling and her heart thundering in her ears, but she still smiled, the words making her hot in the freezing room. 

He sat up, breathless, to untie her boots, throwing them aside. His hands ran the length of her legs until his fingers hit her belt buckle, but he moved past it to touch her stomach.

The stretch marks were so dark now, and had grown larger. He smoothed his fingers over them softly, not wanting her to shy away.

He moved so slow, hooking his fingers around her jeans and pulling them from under her bottom, down her legs, off her feet. When he took her leg to rest on his shoulder, kissing the inside of her knee, and curling his fingers around her panties. Off they went, this time placed gently on the floor. 

She was so, so beautiful. More so than anything he'd seen in his life. And he loved her so, so much. 

She watched his shadowed eyes intently from behind his hair, and caught when he licked his parted lips where heavy breaths billowed from.

Back between her legs he kneeled, kissing her, drinking the life from her lips. She'd never held him so tightly, almost desperately. But she pushed on him, now straddling his hips and kissing across his jaw. 

Hands traveled her smooth back, her bare body above him as her teeth scraped across his skin. He'd groan when she moved above him, his dick straining against his jeans. He did it himself, reaching down between them to undo the buckle and shove his jeans down. He sprang out, nearly jerking up when he felt her lips against his tip. 

“Sh sh sh,” she hushed, leaning down on her elbows beside him when he shuttered and moaned beneath her. He only nodded languidly, kissing her, his fumbling hands moving to her hips. 

She whispered into his ear, things he couldn't understand, but words that made his eyes heavy and his body ache as she rubbed her clit against his erection, moaning softly against him. 

His whole body tensed when she finally let him in, her body curling against him and freezing as she readjusted to him all over again. 

“I'm sorry I'm sorry…” he whispered against her shoulder, holding her tight. 

Daryl kept still, rubbing her back and asking her again and again if she was okay, kissing her arms beside his face. It wasn't long before she looked at him with watery eyes, and rolled once. He gasped. She rolled twice, and he took a sharp intake of breath. The third time, and he could barely find the strength to hold his head up anymore, and let it fall back against the ground. She kissed his chin, her body rolling in and out, sending him off somewhere high above earth where he floated in ecstasy. 

She breathed, continuing to effortlessly roll her body, engulfing and then releasing him like a warm wash of a wave in the sea. He crumbled then, moaning loudly as his hands held steady on her hips. He was no match against her- she had complete power over him. She moved his hair from his eyes, leaning down to kiss him just as an involuntary shiver shook her body. 

But he sat forward suddenly, cradling her against him a moment before laying her back on the floor. She hissed at the icy floor, but his arms slid under her knees and pinned them close to her chest as he sank back in her again, and the cold biting her back was forgotten.. 

Rosie cried out, her nails digging into his back and neck, her body writhing beneath him as he brought out what had been locked away for far too long. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-,” he chanted, feeling his end approach faster than he wanted. 

“I'm gonna cum-,” he said breathlessly, and she shook her head. 

“No not yet- I'm almost there!” She gasped. 

With a hand ghosting between them, his thumb found her clit, and it was all screams and shuttering from there. With a few tight circles of his finger, she was yelling his name and arching off the ground like she always did, like he always loved to watch her do. 

“Oh fuck Rosie-,” he forced out, and he felt her push on his hips until he slid out, and her hand found him swiftly to pump the last of him across her stomach. He jerked erratically into her hand, groaning and grunting. He buried his face against her neck with a hard exhale, his heart clapping in his chest as he laid over her with his arms holding around her neck and her mouth close to his ear so he could hear every sharp intake of breath, and every moan she made in his name.

“I missed you.” He said against her cheek, kissing her over and over again once the orgasm had ebbed from his system. Rosie’s fingers moved his hair, her thumbs rubbing his slim face as he adorned her with sweet smooches. 

When she suddenly started to chuckle softly against his shoulder she had kissed, he moved to look at her, nudging his nose against hers.

“Wha’so funny?” He asked. 

Rosie shook her head. “Mrs. Dixon has a nice ring to it.” She told him, and he leaned his forehead against hers, nodding with a grin. 

“Of course I'll be your wife.” She finally answered, holding his head steady. He figured that her actions had been the answer he wanted, but to hear it was a relief. He let out a long held breath, rolling onto his side to better hold her. 

“Oh oh- cold!” She exclaimed, curling away from the frozen ground. 

“Aw fuck.” He laughed, standing to pull his jeans up. But she laid there, trying to find something to wipe her stomach with. 

“Hold on, I gotcha.” He said, leaving to find her a rag. She giggled as he hopped around, his upper half chilled from the cold. Rosie lied there a moment, eventually her hands moving to her chest where she felt her heart swell and a wide smile splay across her face against her own accord. 

“Found somethin’.” He said, handing her an old rag. It would have to do, and after she stood to clothe herself and hide from the cold. 

“Still have some waiting to do before the storm passes.” She said, pulling her scarf around her neck and rubbing her arms. 

“Well guess I should give ‘em to y’now then.” Daryl mumbled. Her brow furrowed, and she watched him dig through his backpack until he came back with a small black cloth he started to unwrap. 

Inside, were two silver bands, a little clouded but still shining with meaning. 

“Where’d you get those?” She whispered, her hand shaking as he took hers to slip the smaller one on. 

“Found ‘em. Came across a house with a couple that had off’d each other. Told ‘em they’d be going to good use.” He told her, and she held her hand out before her, knowing she’d have to readjust to having a ring on her finger again; it was a little loose. But this was different- this felt right in her heart. Her previous marriage was all about making sense, and the love was already dwindling by the time they had tied the knot. 

“Wait!” She said, stopping him from putting on his own ring. 

“Let's hope it fits, sausage fingers.” She mumbled, and he knocked her chin with his knuckles with his free hand. She caught the small exhale he gave when it fit, and now it was his turn to squeeze his fingers and study the feeling. 

“Sorry they ain’t gold.” He said, and she shook her head, moving passed his arms to curl around his neck. 

“I like silver.” She said with a kiss. He chuckled when she kept staring at him, a goofy smile on her face. 

“What?” He finally asked. 

“Call me Mrs. Dixon again?” She teased, and he laughed, leaning towards her ear. 

“Want me t’carry you to the car, Mrs. Dixon?” He asked. Rosie laughed, resting her cheek against his and swaying in his arms. 

 

 

All day the house had been bustling with energy. Everyone had a part in preparing the ‘feast’ they had planned for week leading up to what they hoped was the correct date for New Years, and the time spent around the table eating and laughing was something they’d all hold dear to their hearts. Daryl and Sasha had managed to track and take down a buck. Not only was there meat for tonight, but many more nights to come with preservation. A bottle of rum that Abraham had found had been chilled in the snow outside, and by the end of the night, most were tipsy and raising glasses to toast. To the roof over their heads and the warmth in their homes, and to new additions. Rosie only smiled softly at Glenn when he realised the impact of his words, but she took her turn in raising her glass and toasting to another year alive. 

And Daryl was the last to raise his, and say, “to family”, the most precious thing they all had become. 

Now the house was quiet, most of them sleeping and some on watch, and Rosie started to drift away laying against Daryl’s chest with his hand stroking her bare back. 

This was what she was also thankful for. To sleep against her husband at night and watch the snow fall outside. She drew small designs against his chest with her fingers, her eyes half closed and often fluttering shut when he’d scratch a favorable spot on her back. 

“They finally noticed the rings.” she said softly, and he chuckled, looking at his a moment.

“Yeah, after only three weeks.” he mumbled, entwining his fingers with hers. 

 

*They’d just come back from hunting, expecting only to find a hen or even a raccoon, but to everyone’s surprise and delight, Sasha had managed to take down a buck with expert precision. Her sharp firing skills never failed them.

“Well fuck me sideways.” He muttered when he saw his lover help drag the carcass in, already gutted and ready to be cooked. 

“We’ll have enough for tonight and more.” Glenn said, helping drag it into the backyard. 

“And…,” Daryl said, walking to Rosie who had just set plates on the table. Mismatched, but that didn’t matter. 

Carefully and slowly, he took off his backpack and just the same pulled out a shoebox that had soft scratching noises coming from inside. Rosie’s brows furrowed; what creature had he brought home? But upon opening it, she gasped, her eye lighting up. 

“Chickens!” She yelled, reaching for the two baby chicks that began chirping loudly. “Oh my god they’re so cute.” She half sobbed, holding them against her chest. 

“He chased them forever.” Sasha said when she came back inside, and Rosie looked at him with wide eyes. 

“You chased chickens for me?” She asked. He only shrugged. 

She reached to grab his jaw and kiss him, thanking him softly. 

Maggie had looked over then, and looked twice when she spotted a silver glint banded across Rosie’s finger.

“Is… is that a ring?” She said aloud, not considering if it was to be kept a secret, and frankly couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice. The pair looked at all who’d stopped at her words, but didn’t say anything. 

“Did you two tie the knot?” Rick asked. A moment passed, and Daryl was the one to raise his hand and show his own ring. Maggie and Michonne gasped, whereas the men resorted to loud shouts and moving to pester Daryl, promising they’d one day throw him an appropriate bachelor party. More cause to celebrate, and reminded him that he was a married man now every time they refilled his glass. Good thing he could hold his liquor.* 

 

She smiled, recalling the moment. But her eyes drifted, through the glass door of their room and to the small piece of the grave she could see under the tree. Her vision often fell there while she laid awake at night. No matter how she willed her mind to shut off and fall asleep, she’d lay there and recount the moments leading up to Lily. Full of anguish, she nestled more against his side. 

“I miss her.” she said softly. Daryl only nodded, holding his arm tighter around her and turning to kiss her head. 

 

 

Abraham, Daryl and Rick stepped from the Jeep, just having arrived to a new town they hadn’t yet cleared. It looked relatively untouched- not many front doors to stores swung open and windows were unbroken, but the inside could always be cleaned out. 

“What’s on the list?” Rick asked, checking the rounds in his Boa. 

Daryl pulled the paper from his pocket. 

“Same as always. Food n’ medicine plus a couple extra things.” He replied, scanning their surroundings. The men nodded, and moved to the first store. 

As usual, they knocked on the windows and waited. When nothing came, they stepped in. Always quiet and quick, never lingering and not without backup. The first store was finished- grocery stores were usually picked dry, anyways. Onto the next. 

But when they entered the pharmacy, a grizzly sight had them spinning in all directions with weapons raised. 

Whoever had taken the time to strap these walkers upside down from the ceiling in lines had done so recently- the fire used to singe the ends of ropes and keep them from freezing over was fresh, Daryl was sure of this. 

They growled and snapped, reaching for the men who didn’t know which way to move. 

“I think we need to cut this trip short.” Abraham said quietly, keeping his mid gun aimed at the back entrance. 

“Wait!” Daryl hissed, and pointed out the window into the one across the road. Inside, behind the clouded glass, they could see the smallest flicker of a fire. They all looked at one another. Like the pharmacy, this store had walkers lining the ceiling. And the next, and the next. There was something devilishly wrong with this- something was not right in the minds of who did this. 

“Let’s go.” Rick said. Cautiously, carefully, they moved outside. But they all stopped to press against the wall. 

“Should we risk going to the car?” Daryl asked. Looking down, he could see foot prints walking in every direction, all over the place now that he noticed. 

“If we walk we’ll be targets.” Abraham noted.

“They’ve already seen us if they’re still here.” 

“What if they follow us home?” 

“We’ll at least have a fighting chance there.” Rick said, grabbing his walkie. 

“Michonne?” He called, and waited. 

And waited. He looked at the others. 

“Michonne, comeback.” He called again. 

Nothing. 

Daryl reached for his.

“Rose you there?” Now he waited. 

“I’m here- what’s up?” She came through, and they exhaled. 

“We found somethin’ in the town- is everyone okay there? Y’all see anything?” He asked. 

“Nothing here. Should we be looking?” 

“Be keepin’ an eye out. We’re heading back now to talk.” He answered as they started to walk down the road. 

“Alright- be safe.” 

 

 

“Walkers? Hanging?” Michonne repeated, her face twisted in confusion. Rick nodded, his eyes again moving to look out the windows. 

“Are you sure it was all of them?” She asked. 

“We stopped lookin’ after the tenth one.” Daryl answered. 

“What town?” Rosie asked. 

“Gunbarrel.” he answered, and she cocked her head. 

“Didn’t you all just go to that one a few days ago?” she asked, and they nodded. “It was fine when we last went.” Rick answered. Rosie narrowed her eyes, and left them to retrieve a map from her room. In a flurry she opened it and laid it flat across the dinner table. 

“What town did we first notice the jaws in?” she asked. 

“Haxton- around here.” Glenn pointed.

“And we cleared Hillrose? And Wiggins on our way in?” she asked, running off again to grab a marker so she could circle them and draw a line. “Yep.” Daryl said. 

“And someone has gone back, right- but they’ve been wasted?” 

There wasn’t an answer, but it was true. 

She drew another circle, connected the next line. 

“We’re here- Sunshine Canyon. We followed the Seventy-Six all the way until we hit the Fifty-Two, then all the way through Dacono and into Boulder until we hit the mountains. And the walkers are in Gun Barrel?” she asked. She didn’t need an answer. When she was finished, the line was from where they had first arrived, leading directly to them. They all stared, silently, going over every detail since first arriving in Colorado. 

“Someone, or a group, has been following us and taking down every place we make a run to. I think they might’ve been targeting someone else when we first found the burned building and we came along at just the right time.” Rosie explained, pointing to the first town. 

“How’ve we not seen any signs?” asked Michonne. 

“We have- we just didn’t connect them.” Abraham mumbled, and most of their faces dropped into their hands. 

“Should we get ready?” Carl asked. 

“No.” Rick said instantly, and all looked to him. 

“We ran last time, and we hid. We’re not waiting for an attack again. This time, we’re attacking first.” he said sternly, his fists clenched. 

“They probably know the land better than we do, though.” Maggie said. 

“Doesn’t matter. We need to start going out and searching until we find them. When we do, we’ll make a plan, and wipe them out. We are not giving up another home and we will not be taken down by a group of psychos.” He ordered. This look of Rick’s hadn’t been seen for a long time- since after escaping Terminus and happening upon Aaron. The quiet mountains had settled him, made him think life here was calm. But like a mountain, he wouldn’t be moved. Not again. 

No more runs. No more walks around the area, and Lip had been tied to his post in the backyard so his extra noise wouldn’t attract unwanted attention, assuming their cover was still in tact. It was like waiting for the Saviours all over again. Weapons were loaded and a few cars were packed and ready in case their defenses fell, but Rick was steadfast in his desire to stay, and win this time. 

There was always to be round the clock watch now, and it was Rosie’s night as she sat on the snow covered roof, a book in her lap that received little attention with her eyes scanning every few seconds. 

“Hey Rose.” Daryl called up, slipping on his jacket and a beanie she’d found for him. Despite all this hair, it was quite thin, and she couldn’t help but smile every time she saw him wearing it. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked as he crawled up the ladder, scooting beside her. He shook his head. 

“Keep sittin’ up in bed and lookin’ out the windows waitin’ for a group to attack. What’chu doin’?” he asked, looking at the book in her lap. 

“It’s a sight-seeing book I picked up on a run; figured it might have some places we could look around for.” she answered, closing it, and setting it aside. 

“Any luck?” 

“Just a few amusement parks- lots of cemeteries and golf clubs.” she said softly. 

“It’s a start.” he said. Their feet swung back and forth, sometimes bumping and hooking around each other. Not much was to be said- everyone was on edge and quiet, but sitting in silence like this was nice. It could all be ending again, so to sit and relax in what could be their last moment of peace was the best they could do at the moment. 

“If I die, promise you’ll be the one to make sure I don’t come back?” Rosie suddenly said, and he looked at her. 

“What’s that crap?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious. I don’t wanna become one. Just- do it quickly and then throw me aside. Nothing after I die will be the same so I’m not worth burying.” She explained. 

Daryl elbowed her. 

“We bury our own- that’s always been a rule with us.” He told her, wanting this conversation to be over. 

“Okay, but just be the one to do it. I wouldn’t want anyone else.” She told him. He didn’t like it, but he nodded. 

“You ain’t gonna die though.” 

“How d’you know?” She asked. 

He shook his head. “You can’t.” He mumbled, looking away but curling an arm around her shoulders. Rosie leaned against him and kept it at that. All though she knew any second of any day could be their last, she wouldn’t plague him with the thoughts she’d toyed with since losing her children. Waiting like this was horrible. A silent tension loomed over them all, watching their every step and effecting any choice they made. 

 

One Month Later

 

“That’s gotta be it.” Glenn said, lowering his binoculars and handing them to Rick. “It’s got walls and fencing with lights on around it.” he added. 

It was well fortified, and looked to have common additions added to the walls to keep them strong. Stationing next to the city was a risk like no other, but the walkers wandering close by were a sure way to keep people away. How they kept them from attracting them was a mystery in of itself. 

“I see two lookouts.” Rick said, and handed them over to Abraham. He stared intently. The two, what he guessed were men, were clothed heavily in white, only their faces showing through in the thick snow covering the landscape. They walked back and forth with heavy guns in hand, but to them, the four of them were hidden amongst the trees, deep in the shadows. 

“Doesn’t look that big.” Daryl said. 

“There could be more people hiding inside what with that storage building connected.” Glenn said, scribbling down the basic layout onto a notepad. 

“Could we block them in and set something off inside? Light a fire around it?” Rosie asked. “Or throw a grenade inside and let the walkers take over it?” 

Daryl smirked at her, and looked at the once abandoned military base himself once Abraham had finished. 

“What ever we do has to be done quickly and quietly. We can’t draw the walkers away first without them catching on. Maybe the fire idea is the best.” Rick said. 

“Worth taking a look around inside first? Might have guns and ammo.” Glenn suggested. 

It was Rosie’s turn to look at it, and she bit her inner cheek. There were hundreds of walkers. 

“How we gonna get around without them snapping at us?” she asked. Rick rubbed his face. 

“We can set the fire from inside. We go in through one access point, scout, do what needs to be done and leave the same way. We won’t have to worry about walkers.” Abraham explained. 

“Unless they get in.” Rosie said, scanning the length of the fence. 

“We can keep it sealed with hooks.” Daryl said, nodding. 

“We gonna do this during the day?” Glenn asked. 

“Nah- night’s better. We can sneak along those tents ‘n buildings where the lights don’t point down on.” Daryl said, pointing to the watch posts that barely peaked over the fences. 

“We need to go back for supplies.” RIck said. “No guns- we keep this quiet and quick.” he instructed, looking for a nod from everyone. They stood a moment longer from the heavily wooded hill they watched from, down onto the base that led into the city overrun with walkers. Another battle to be won. 

 

They checked their walkies, and counted the number of bottles of gasoline they each carried in their backpacks. Each was given a handgun, but knew not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Rick, Glenn, Abraham, Daryl, Rosie and Sasha dressed light, and in all black, hoping it’d conceal them once inside. Rick held his children and Michonne close, and told them he’d be back in time for breakfast. 

Glenn kissed and held Maggie and Hershel. Part of him wanted to pick them up and run- not all fights were worth fighting, but they’d be giving up the only home they knew for his child. 

Daryl tried to get Rosie to stay. He even begged, telling her they’d had too many close encounters. But she looked at him and asked him if he could wait around while she went out to take down a group of psychopaths. He only sighed, and gave in, but could already feel the extra anxiety piling on. 

And when they were parking their car in the trees, and coming upon the base, everything in their bodies stilled. There was no more room for doubts and regrets, or thoughts wandering to better times. There was only the plan they’d mapped and the task that needed to be carried out. 

In organized fashion, they wound and weaved through the old cars along the streets and hid amongst rubble. The walkers were not yet congested in this part, so taking any stragglers down was easy. A broad knife of sharp machete finished it in silence. They took turns keeping eyes on the scouts at the walls as others moved past them, and would follow the last person to the next spot. 

When they were a block down, Rick pulled Rosie to the front. “You’re on.” he whispered. 

The bag carrying the stones was opened and silently spilled into empty cans Glenn had been carrying, and then Daryl used old twine to tie them shut. She handed Sasha and Rick one, and held on in hand herself. Then they waited. It took some time, but when the scouts finally looked away, they all threw the rattle cans in separate directions, wincing when they hit the ground with a crash and rolled. Rosie hid the discomfort in her shoulder, and thankfully it didn’t grow more than a dull throb. But they effectively drew the attention of the walkers, and the scouts who scrambled to pinpoint what was happening. 

“Go!” Rick hissed, and they were back to running down the street, their shoulders basically scrapping alongside the walls they tried to stay pressed up against. The thick snow made it difficult to run, and even when their legs burned, they kept sprinting until they were pressed against an old building across from the base. Daryl peered inside, and when all was cleared he ushered them in. They could now look out the fogged windows at it without the danger of being seen. 

“Walkers cleared enough but we gotta move soon.” Sasha breathed, trying to even her breath. 

“Look- we can cut those chains holding those two pieces together.” Glenn said, pointing to a split in the chain linked fence. 

“Make sure those bolt cutters are ready t’go.” Daryl said, pulling the hood of his jacket over his beanie. “Back door?” He asked Rosie, who’d been looking around. She turned and nodded, leading them through back rooms of the appliance store until they found the exit. 

“Once we’re out, Abraham hits that fence and the rest keep the walkers at bay.” Rick said. They nodded, and held their knives and weapons ready. 

The door swung open, and they were off again. Snarls from walkers sounded louder than usual, but with quick stabs or slices, they moved stealthily across the wide street. If this group had had proper surveillance, watching a group of people dressed in black running around in the snow would have been spotted immediately. These people clearly didn’t know what they were doing. But that didn’t mean they should assume they weren’t dangerous. 

Abraham had the cutters out and pinching as soon as they made it, and the group stood around him protectively as he struggled to snap the links of the chain. 

One by one, walkers started to turn and spot them, pushing their frozen bodies through the snow towards them. Rick moved away to take down the ones coming, and Daryl joined them with Glenn behind, leaving the girls to watch Abraham’s back. It was as quiet as could be, but sooner or later, they’d start piling up and making more noise. 

“Done?” Rick whispered, pushing back a partially frozen walker to trip three others. 

“Almost-,” Abraham strained, and Sasha jumped in to help push down the handle when it caught on the joint, and the two exhaled when it finally cut through. 

“Open!” he hissed, and Rosie helped peel the fencing back so the others could climb through. 

Daryl and Rick pulled the metal clips from their bags and secured the fence, jumping back when the jaws of a fresh walker nearly skimmed the skin from their fingers. Only a second to collect themselves, then back to business. 

“Let’s start sprayin’.” Daryl said quietly. 

They all took the water bottles filled with gas from their back packs, stabbing holes in the caps and methodically spraying along the side of buildings where the snow wouldn’t dampen it, and along the sandbags used as makeshift walls on the inner fencing. 

While three of them took turns spraying, the other three lead them with hands gripping their clothes along, rounding corners and watching for people to come along. It was quiet, and the only people they’d seen were ones walking into the tents, and scouts still at the top of the wall who had appeared to calm down. And now they had a clear layout. 

At the center was an old clinic, probably used as an urgent care some point and had had the tents and surrounding base set up around it. At the back of the base was the storage building, but the inside were unknown. 

When they passed some tents, they could hear quiet talking from inside, even some laughter. They tried to lessen the crunch of the snow under their feet. 

“Wait.” Rosie said, stopping Glenn from walking forward behind the next tent group. 

“Someone can come with me to the clinic and grab some stuff, and we’ll meet at the tents across.” She whispered. 

“I’ll go with.” Sasha said, handing her bottles off to Rick. 

Daryl looked at Rosie, but she only smiled back before crouching along the tent with Sasha. 

“Let’s go!” Glenn said, nudging his arm. 

The girls made it to the edge, and observed. 

“There’s someone sitting by the door.” Rosie sighed. Her eyes scanned. 

“Back doors are free.” Sasha said. Rosie nodded, and the two did a long scan of the area. No one was out walking in the cold, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t decide to. But they still took the chance, and bolted. Thankfully the lights along the wall were pointed outwards, keeping the base relatively dark. 

They hit the doors and paused, waiting to listen for anyone inside. When nothing came, they started to slide the doors open. Before slipping in, they spotted the others and waved them down. So far so good. 

Inside, it was stale and quiet. Long hallways of doors and old beds, but there had to be supplies somewhere. 

“I’ll take the right.” Rosie whispered. One by one they pulled open cabinets and drawers, grabbing anything that could be of use and stuffing it into their bags. Everything looked so untouched- had this group been capable of remaining this safe? Or had they moved in when they did? Maybe their whole assumption was wrong. 

Rosie backed up from the room once she finished, and with her hands occupied with stuffing stitching kits away, she didn’t see the metal table tray in the hallway until she hit it, sending it to the ground with a deafening clatter. 

They held their breath, waiting. Rosie felt like she could crawl into the ground and never come out. She couldn’t fucked this all up for them all. Sasha looked out, mouthing ‘okay?’. Rosie nodded bashfully, holding her cheeks. When the front door creaked open, the girls scrambled, a couple rooms away from each other, but they knew to hide- but where? Sasha managed to squeeze behind an exam table in hers, but Rosie’s was only a storage room filled with empty shelves. 

“Paul?” They heard a man’s voice, and steps start to come down the hall along with the beam of a flashlight. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” She whispered, frantically looking everywhere. Her eyes fell on the window. It was high, but maybe she could make it. There was no point in staying quiet now, and if she could lure him away from Sasha, it’s give her the chance to flee. 

She shoved the old window open, and still winced when it screeched. 

“Hey!” The man’s voice came again, and she could hear him running when she was halfway through the window. She hoisted her weight forward, and into the snow. The cold of it slipping into her clothes got her up and moving again, around the corner so he wouldn’t see her escaping between the tents. 

Sasha followed him silently into the room, and barely looked around the edge of the door frame to spot him struggling to look out the window. In three long steps, she was yanking back on his neck and her blade was stabbing into the base of his skull, silencing any seconds of protests. He fell into a crumbled pile by her feet, and she exhaled before reaching down to search him. 

A rifle and a few flares in his pockets, along with a walkie that was silent. She pulled back his hat, but her hand recoiled. 

He couldn’t’ve been over twenty. 

Deep in her thoughts, she hoped she hadn’t just taken the life of someone’s son, but she shook them away. 

“Rosie?” She called out the window. 

Silence. 

“Rosie?” She asked again. Using a container, she looked out, and could see the footprints in the snow leading away, but no other sign of her. 

“Shit.” She said under her breath, and then crawled out of the window, checked her sides, and ran between the tents just in time to see the rest of them moving towards her. The first thing they both noticed about each other- no Rosie. 

“Where is she?” Daryl demanded. 

“We had a guy come up on us. She got out the window and ran but I didn’t have time to follow her steps.” She explained. He groaned, looking around them.

“She’s okay- we haven’t heard anyone yell or any shots, she’s probably just in a different corner.” Rick said, trying to catch his eyes that were jumping everywhere. “If we don’t find her in time for the traps to set, she’ll still know to get out- we’ll leave the gate open. No one will know to try and get through from there.” He finished, but Daryl was still on edge. 

“Nah. I’m gonna go find her.” He grumbled, starting to walk off, but then the flicker of a fire from across the base caught their attention. Like lightning, it started to follow the trail they’d left behind. And then there were gunshots, then screaming from the inhabitants. 

“Did she start it?” Glenn asked, tossing the gasoline bottles aside. From behind them it was already coming. 

“Only if she was in trouble.” Abraham said. 

“Rosie!” Daryl yelled, but Rick silenced him, and pushed him forward. They were running now from their own flames, and towards the front of the base. The tents were already consumed in flames on one side, and they could hear the strangled cries of people burning from inside. There was still people running from their own now, scrambling to understand what was happening and who was attacking. 

“We have t’go back!” Daryl yelled, trying to yank his arm from Rick’s hands. 

“She knows how to get out! We need to leave before the fire catches us!” Rick yelled back, the group moving slower now that they were at odds. 

“Don’t move!” A sudden shout came. 

All at once, they realized they were in the open now, having just came from behind a watch tower but enough to be seen by a lone man, aiming his gun at them and standing near the front gates. 

They all froze, their minds racing in different directions, questioning what they could do now. Glenn has just reached for his gun at his hip, when a familiar figure stepped from behind the tower opposite to them. 

“Hey!” Rosie yelled, effectively catching the man’s attention. Daryl’s legs had just tensed to run towards her as her hand rose to aim her pistol, her face tortured in fierce protectiveness.

The loud shot was heard over the other gunfire, and they watched her head snap back, her body spin, and hit the snow. 

His world collapsed, and he knew he opened his mouth to scream her name, but he couldn’t hear over the thundering of his own thoughts in his ears. And he watched the man approach her, his rifle still aimed at her as Rick and Abraham struggled to pull him back besides their own shock still ringing in them. 

Everything in his body begged it not to be real. 

What would he do now? How would he handle the rest of his life when only witnessing her death ten seconds ago was already drowning him? 

“Rosie!” Sasha yelled, and the rest paused. 

In one swift strike of her leg, Rosie had knocked him off his feet and lunged forward to bring a newly found hatchet into the man’s throat, slashing once, twice, three times before wobbling to her feet and turning towards them. 

“Daryl?” She called. 

He didn’t realize he was running towards her until his body was slamming into hers, patting her everywhere and trying to form a coherent sentence. 

“I’m okay, I’m fine!” She yelled, trying to speak over him. He’d never looked so confused, and scared, and raw. There was only a slice in her cheek that bled where the bullet had grazed, even piercing a hole in the hood of her sweater. 

The gunfire was closer now as it rang into the night sky. Rosie pulled Daryl behind the watch post, looking around the edge to see walkers had started to breach the wall. She looked over at Rick- they’d moved back behind the watch post also. 

“We have to get inside!” She said, pulling him inside the watch post and slamming the door shut. She double checked the lock, and finally turned to him. 

He looked so lost. Rosie let out a hard breath. 

“Daryl I’m okay!” She pleaded, moving to hold his cheeks when his hands raised to grab her shoulders. But then he gripped her harshly, and nearly lifted her off the ground. 

“Stop runnin’ off on yer own!” He bellowed. “Are you fucking insane?” She flinched at first, and struggled to free herself… but in the end, understood. 

“I had no choice.” she said calmly, moving his hair so he could see her. She hoped if she could portray anything calm, he’d match it. But his eyes jumped back and forth, like she was lost in front of him. 

“That was- that was the WORST thing…” he struggled to say, his nerves calming but the resonating sickness of that instant sorrow lingering. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” she repeated, finally free from his iron grip and kissing his cheeks quickly. 

“We have to leave, the fires already going.” she said. He took another second to collect his thoughts and breathe, and then nodded. Now he led, moving to the door and looking out, but the clouded glass obstructed everything. It seemed there were more figures running around, and the shouting was getting louder. 

“If we move fast enough we can make it through the front.” he said, turning back to her. Rosie was nodding, tightening the straps on her backpack and checking the laces on her boots. “Fires moving quick so we gotta get ahead of it.” he added. 

“Okay, okay.” she mumbled, feeling nausea rile up in her chest. She was scared, and sloppily wiped the blood on her cheek away with the back of her hand.. 

“What about RIck? And Glenn and Sasha and Abraham?” she asked, her voice shaking. “We’ll call ‘em as soon as we get out.” he answered. Her hands started to tremble. There had been moments she’d been closer to staring death in the face, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why she was so unsettled in that instant.

He saw it in her eyes. Daryl approached her, and pressed his forehead to hers. 

“We’re gonna make it. You stay right by me and keep runnin’.” he said, and Rosie nodded again, closing her eyes to even her breathing. They both moved to the door, and with his hand holding hers, he threw it open. 

They bolted, feeling the screams and shots at their backs, but the front gate was approaching so quickly- 

A loud stream of shots filled their ears, and the bullet slamming into his thigh brought him down. 

He rolled, and his hand pressing against the throbbing wound made it worse. Daryl yelled, looking down at his leg, bleeding into the snow. 

Rosie. 

His head shot up, in time to see her rolling onto her side and yelling, her arms around her stomach as she started to bleed out. 

“No! Rosie, no!” he hollered, trying to crawl towards her. 

“No, not them!” he heard Rick’s voice yell from somewhere distant, and when he’d registered the footsteps running towards him and had moved to look up, a sharp pain at the back of his head sent him barreling into darkness. 

 

 

The sounds of shots shook him awake, but when he sprang up, he was in his bed, his eyes meeting the tall windows of his and Rosie’s room. The ringing in his ears was annoying, as was the throb in his thigh and head. The sheet covering him and below him were drenched in sweat, adding to the annoyance he felt right away. And unlike so many times before, Rosie wasn’t by his side. When he threw his legs out to toss the sheets away, the instant stab of pain had him curling inwards, gripping his thigh that he now saw was heavily bandaged. 

“What the fuck-,” he ground out, moving slower to bring his legs over the edge of the bed. But his body shook, and felt so unsteady as he took a couple times to make it to his feet. He found himself gripping to walls and edges of dressers and chairs, limping to the door. 

But he caught his reflection in the full length mirror, and stopped. 

His hair was cut short. Back on the farm short, and there was a wide gauze taped onto the side of his head where he could feel the throbbing originating from. 

Daryl pushed the door open, and part of him was relieved to find Maggie and Sasha in the living room with Judith and Hershel. 

“You’re awake!” Sasha said, standing to rush to his side. 

“Where’s Rosie?” he ground out, sweat coating his bare top. 

“You need to sit down, Daryl.” Maggie said, putting Hershel in the playpen by the couch to help Sasha when he tugged his arm from her hands. 

“Where’s Rosie?” he demanded. 

“Daryl-,” Sasha started to say, but he moved backwards. 

“Where is she?” he yelled, panic starting to coat his veins. He remember watching her writhe on the round, and blood inking into the snow around her.

“She’s okay.” Maggie said calmly, allowing him a moment to let her words sink in. He blinked a few times, staring, almost on the verge of crying. 

“She is?” he choked out. 

“She is, now sit.” she said, helping him hobble to the couch. They helped lean him back into the cushions, and Sasha left to grab a damp towel and a glass of water. They didn’t speak until he’d finished the glass, and despite denying he needed it, he felt better once he gulped it down. 

“Do you remember anything?” Sasha asked. He thought on it. 

“We got shot, n’- n’ I remember hearin’ Rick yell somethin’ and Rosie on the ground. Was she shot?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

“She was. In the stomach.” Sasha answered. 

His face dropped into his hands. He couldn’t catch a break. 

“But she’s doing good, and she’s recovering at the hospital.” Maggie said. 

Wait. 

Wait. 

“What? What hospital?” he asked carefully. 

“That night, we weren’t the only ones there to take down that group. This whole time we’ve been here, there’s been another military base still functioning- only one of a few left in the states. They’d gone that night to take back their FOB that was overrun, but they ran into us instead. A soldier thought you and Rosie were the other people, and they shot.” Sasha explained. 

He listened, intently, with his hands fisted and his jaw clenched. 

“Rick sorted us out and they stitched you up, but they took her with. She needed surgery.” 

“How long she been there?” he asked. 

“Two days. Rick and Glenn have been there with their own injuries, and they’ve been radioing in with updates.” 

Daryl exhaled, and nodded. “I wanna go see her.” 

The girls looked at one another, and his eyes narrowed. 

“You can’t, she’s in quarantine.” Sasha said, bracing for impact. 

“What- why?” He yelled. 

“The wound started to show infection right away- apparently that was a defense from the group. They’d coat their bullets in Walker blood so even if they grazed you, they'd take you down eventually.” 

Daryl covered his face again. How much more could that poor girl take? 

“She’s okay though! She had to go in again this morning for procedure but for now she only has a fever to worry about and to heal. They just don’t want to take any chances.” Maggie said, pulling his arms down so he’d look at her. 

“How long she gonna be in for?” He asked- almost begged, hoping for some good news. 

Sasha shrugged. “They said if all goes well, maybe a week.” 

He got up on his own then, limping towards the kitchen and ignoring the stifling pain in his leg. 

“Where’s the damn walkie?” He demanded. 

Finally back in his bed, and having denied any food despite his stomach growling, he sat down slowly and kept his leg up, knowing Maggie was peeking in to make sure he’d listened. 

‘In the meantime, keep off that leg and those wounds clean, otherwise you won’t be able to see her when she’s able.’ 

“Rick, you there?” He called over the static, and waited. 

“Glad to hear you’re finally up.” Rick finally responded, and Daryl could let that breath go. 

“Didn’t mean t’sleep that long.” 

“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling?” Rick asked. He could’ve sworn he heard other voices behind his- busy ones, like he was in a crowded area. 

“Sore. How’s Rosie? ‘N you and Glenn?” Daryl asked. 

“We’re good, mostly bumps and bruises and a few scrapes- Rosie is too. She’s had a long night so she’s still sleeping.” He didn’t sound worried, but the usual confidence of his voice was also lacking. 

Daryl paused. “Has she woken up at all?” He asked. 

“No. They have her heavily sedated, Daryl. That infection came fast and she had to go in for another procedure this morning.” He answered. He spoke quietly, like when you delivered news that brought husbands farther away from the light of hope. 

“I need t’see her.” He groaned. 

“No, you need to rest. They won’t even let us see her until she’s cleared.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Daryl ground out. 

“It is, but it’s keeping her alive.” Rick replied. 

He nodded. “I know.” 

“She’s gonna be fine. Keep resting, and keep telling yourself that so when she wakes up, you can see her.” 

Daryl didn’t respond, and instead let himself fall back into the bed. Too much in his head and heart to be awake. He’d listen, and he’d rest, but he hoped he could sleep through it all. He’d already been counting the seconds since he was awake and she wasn’t. 

 

 

She’d fallen in and out overnight, her body not willing to move anymore then to turn her head when she heard a muffled sound or shift her legs in between the sheets. They didn’t feel like hers- they were stiff, but cold. Every time she’d open her eyes, her brain was a little more aware, and her limbs were no longer twitching of their own accord when she’d wake. Now with the midday sun coming in through the blinds, she could finally manage to crack her eyes open and keep them that way without annoyances. 

That’s when she realized it was hands pulling her blankets down and moving her gown aside was what woke her. She struggled to summon any strength left to grip the wrist of the person standing above her, and struggled even more to see past the haze in her eyes. 

“Woah woah, you’re okay- I’m sorry. Can you hear me?” A man’s voice came, and she forced her eyes open wider. 

She could make out basic features- clean shaven, dark buzzed hair and a white lab coat. Rosie licked her dry lips, and let his wrist go, still staring at him. More of her body was waking up, able to move, and her mind was piecing things together. 

Rosie finally nodded. 

“My name is Alex, I’m a doctor here.” He said softly. She cocked an eyebrow. Her body stretched a little, then tensed. Too sore. She pinched her eyes shut. 

“Do you know where you are?” He asked, moving to grab her hand gently and wrap a blood pressure cuff around her arm. 

Her vision was returning, and she could make out IV’s in her hands and the clean sheets of the hospital bed she laid in, and the monitors beeping overhead. She craned her neck back, and sighed. 

“A hospital?” She tried to say, but her throat was like a desert. Rosie coughed roughly, and gagged when something felt lodged at the back of her throat. Her hand moved to her face, and she could feel the tube leading into her nose and tapped there. She tugged on it, but he stopped her. The squeeze on her arm bothered her, and she also tried to pull that off.

“No no, leave that there for now. Do you know your name?” He asked, removing the cuff after the machine beeped. 

Rosie looked at him again, swallowing and swallowing, trying to bring moisture back into her mouth. She cleared her throat to her best ability. 

“Rosie.” She croaked out. 

“Good- and your last name?” He asked, reaching to grab a clipboard and flip the papers back. Rosie blinked, and her thumb moved to her palm to feel for her ring. It was gone. 

“Dixon.” She mumbled. 

“Very good. Are you in any pain?” He asked. She nodded, motioning towards her stomach. He reached over her and handed her a small grip with a button on top- and she grinned, to his surprise. A familiar friend when she’d been in labor with her kids years before. The morphine always burned her face when it went in, but it lulled within seconds. 

“Mrs. Dixon, you’re at Base 2 Hospital. Do you recall any of what happened?” He asked, moving to pull her eyes open and check the reaction to light. She flinched at first, but settled down quickly. Her mind moved backwards, slowly winding to to the events that brought her there. 

“Where’s Daryl?” She asked hoarsely. 

“Who is that?” He asked, asking her to squeeze his thumbs evenly. She did so. 

“My husband.” She answered, as if he were supposed to know that. Did he make it? 

“That’s right. He got here last night when you started to wake up. I can call him in after we’re done.” He said with a gentle smile. Rosie nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. One by one they completed small tasks, testing her consciousness and level at which her brain was functioning, making sure she hadn’t lost any motor skills or function since being asleep. She was a bit wobbly when he asked her to touch his fingers using her peripheral vision, but all seemed to be good.

“How long was I out for?” She asked, and he handed her a cup of water. It hurt going down, but the cold of it felt so good in her parched mouth. 

“Day over two weeks.” He answered. 

“Fuck.” She said into her cup, coughing some more. “Can I take this out?” She snapped, pointing to the feeding tube. 

“After you’ve held down meals for twenty-four hours. I think you’re mentally intact enough to receive a visitor- would you like me to bring him in?” He asked. 

“Yes- yes please.” She said, putting her cup down. He patted her arm and left behind the curtain. She could hear what sounded like the familiar bustle of a hospital for the small moment the door opened. Suddenly she felt hyper aware of herself- she was sure her hair was matted and disgusting- and oh god, what was the condition of her face? She lifted her arm… did she smell? 

Rosie looked down at her feet. She wiggled her toes, but could barely do so without feeling like they’d cramp up. When she sat back up, and unwelcome twinge of nausea followed. With a groan, she struggled to untangle all the tubes leading out of her. Sniffling with the tub in was uncomfortable, prompting her to adjust it every time despite it causing tears to spring to her eyes. 

The door opened, and she held her breath. 

But her heart thumped, and a wide smile broke out across her face when she saw him, his hair much shorter to her surprise, but it was unmistakably him. She’d never cried so quickly, holding her arms open for him to limp into and hold her tightly after tossing his bags down. With all the uncertainty since waking up, he was her rock. His hand smoothed her wild curls, hushing her gently even though he struggled himself to keep composed. 

“Are you okay?” She cried, and he looked at her, taking in her slimmer cheeks and the tired of her eyes. All the wires and tubes- especially the one in her nose threw him off, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t know her mental state right now, and Alex had warned him before going in that even though she seemed to be fine, there could always be a delayed reaction. 

“I’m okay babe- are you?” He asked, his gruff voice so soft. 

Rosie could only nod, her face twisting, and her hands holding his cheeks. But then she laughed. 

“Your hair is gone!” She squealed, and he laughed with her. 

“Thank Sasha for it.” He mumbled. Rosie closed her eyes and held him there, hoping she didn’t look a complete mess or smell awful, but she just couldn't bare to be apart. She’d slept it, but could feel his absence in her bones. 

Alex cleared his throat from behind them. 

“I’m sorry- there’s a few more things I need to finish and I can leave you to get cleaned up and relax together.” He said. Rosie looked over Daryl, and nodded, but held his arms. 

“He can stay?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer. Either way, she wasn’t going to let go of him. 

“Of course, of course.” Alex replied, moving to turn the lights off. Daryl limped to the other side of the bed and helped her lay down when Alex asked, and his hand was right back in hers as he pulled over a sonogram machine. 

He moved her gown aside, and Daryl hid the cringe at her swollen stomach. The bullet wound that had grown double from two surgeries was healing well finally, but the skin around it was aggravated. 

“What’s the ultrasound for?” She asked, tensing at the cold jelly. 

“Check to see if there’s any free fluid or organs in distress since surgery…” he started off with. Daryl leaned over and watched, having never seen this before, but Rosie looked unamused and rubbed her eyes, still adjusting. 

“And to make sure your baby is doing good.” 

Rosie paused. 

Maybe she’d heard that wrong.

But when she dropped her hands and he moved the doppler down to her lower stomach, Rosie and Daryl were greeted with a rapid heart beat and the side profile of a baby sitting soundly in her stomach. 

Neither of them could move, or look at one another. 

“Baby?” Daryl finally said. Alex looked at them. 

“Did- did you not know?” He asked. The look of horror would’ve been enough, but she still shook her head. 

“Oh… well, you look to be a little more than twelve weeks along, but I’m not an OB so I’ll ask for a second opinion. It’s doing well- strong heart beat, good movement. Have you had any pregnancies previous to this?” he asked. 

Daryl pulled his eyes away to look at her. 

“Two full-term pregnancies and one stillbirth a few months back.” she replied, her eyes still transfixed on the monitor. 

“I’m so sorry.” Alex said, taking a chaste moment to hold her free hand. Rosie nodded, and shifted, not wanting to see the ultrasound any longer. 

“Okay, I’m all set here; I brought in some towels and soap so you can shower, but be careful to keep these stitches and the IV’s dry.” He went to capping off the ends of the IV’s, and taping an AquaGuard over them as well as the wound at her stomach. “Ring that button if you need anything. I’m glad to see you up Mrs. Dixon.” Alex said with a parting grin, patting her shoulder and leaving. 

When he left, Daryl sat at the edge of her bed. She looked so distant, and strained. 

“Rose?” he called to her softly. She looked at him, and leaned her head into his hand when he moved it there, but nothing more. Desperately he wanted to ask her if she knew, or had any suspicions at all, but the turmoil he could feel coming off of her made him think twice about asking.

“Let’s get y’cleaned up.” he said.

Walking was a no-go. Her knees buckled and she nearly went falling, but Daryl was there to help hold her up, so instead he assisted in pulling her gown away and carried her bridal style despite his thigh protesting, but he appreciated the moment he had to hold her against him. The two weeks he spent constantly radioing in to Rick or the base felt like eternity without her. 

As he helped run the hand towel down her back and legs, he withheld his heartache baring witness to her condition. She’d gotten so thin; he could almost count her spinal columns, and the muscle on her thighs he loved to stroke were smaller. And her stomach… he could see that telltale pregnant belly now. Even she agreed that she had thought it was just swelling, having had nearly no nausea this time around. Rosie hid herself behind her thin arms when he stared too long, but he kissed her cheek and told her she looked beautiful. 

Back on her bed, he pulled his backpack up into her lap. 

“Brought you some clothes n’ books.” he said, pulling out items. 

“Is this your sweater?” she asked, her voice finally lifting a bit. 

“Your favorite one.” he smirked, and watched as she slipped it on carefully, and held the sleeves to her face and inhaled. Cigarettes and pine; purely Daryl. 

“Underwear?” he asked, holding a pair. She nodded. 

Rosie couldn’t help but chuckle when he knelt down to help slip them on. 

“This is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever done.” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “Shush.” he said, reaching for a pair of sweats for her to wear. She grunted when she struggled to brush her hair, and didn’t allow him to help her. She had to get back in the mix of doing things on her own. 

“Up for seeing Rick n’ the others? They got here not too long ago.” he asked, and tilted her head.  
“How long have you been here?” she asked, gently slapping his hands away when he tried to put socks on her feet. 

“Last night. Drove in when they said y’started wakin’ up a bit n’ve been waitin’ around since.” he answered, like it was no big deal. Her mouth opened to protest, but he spoke first.

“But before that…” he trailed off, reaching back into his backpack to pull out a plastic bag, filled with her bloody clothes she’d worn that night. Rosie leaned away as he dug through them, finding another smaller bag inside. But her eyes lit up when he pulled her ring out. 

“I was wondering what happened to that.” she said, holding her hand out so he could slip it back on. 

“Looked weird without it there.” he said. “I’ll go get a wheelchair.” 

She spun the ring with her thumb again, like she’d always done to make sure it was there, and was surprised to feel more wholesome than before. Apparently that ring had left a deep impression, even for the brief time she’d had it. 

When he wheeled her out of her room and down the halls, she was amazed to see how similar everything was to what a normal hospital looked like before the outbreak, with the exception of tarps hanging from ceilings in one corner of the hospital they passed. Maybe that was quarantine? Although all the medical staff wore military clothing, and had badges checked at exits and entrances, they all held the kindness that any other doctor or nurse would’ve. There were other patients in rooms besides hers, and even some children. That definitely caught her attention. 

In the elevator, Rosie could see Daryl’s unease start to show. He moved back and forth- common for him when a situation made him edgy. He’d kept it together to see her, but now she thought he might’ve been losing his cool. In addition, she also didn’t know that all night he’d been watching people and counting exits in case it all went to shit like so many other times. She grabbed his hand and held it, hoping it’d calm him. But seeing as they were on the fifth floor and people piled on every time they stopped, it was a long ride, and he didn’t have any weapons with him to serve as that extra bit of comfort. But they finally made it out, and he pushed her out into the lobby. 

“There they are.” Daryl said, and she followed his line of sight until she spotted them sitting by the entrance, watching Hershel and Judith stare out the windows that made up the front wall of the hospital entrance. 

They all turned to them when they wheeled up, equally happy to see Rosie up and moving again. Hugs were exchanged, as well as many questions, mostly her asking if everyone was okay and apologizing for being an inconvenience. Happiness spread again, sitting in the sun and catching up, and Rosie insisted on cuddling the kids even though Daryl advised against it. When the chatter calmed, and it was all small talk between them all, Daryl poked her side without anyone seeing. She knew what he meant, but was hesitant all over again. 

“Whaaat?” Maggie asked, looking at the two. She never missed anything. 

They looked at each other one more time. 

“Rosie’s pregnant again.” Daryl said, biting his lips. There was a pause. 

“When did you find out?” Rick asked. Rosie squinted. “Like forty five minutes ago?” she squeaked. 

“You didn’t know?” Michonne asked, and they shook their heads. “But it- he, or she?” 

The couple shrugged.

“Is okay?” she asked also. They nodded. 

“How far along?” Sasha piped in now. 

“‘Bout three months.” Daryl answered. “Oh shit.” Carl mumbled. 

There was another pause, and Rosie started to fiddle with her fingers when she felt their eyes move one by one to her stomach, trying to make out a bump under the sweater. 

“Y’all just can’t keep your pants on, can you?” Abraham said, LOUDLY, and Rick couldn’t help but snort. It was in succession then, everyone laughing and hiding it, and Rosie and Daryl hiding their faces as they laughed. 

 

Nighttime

 

She sniffled often, struggling to adjust to the feeding tube. Despite eating (although with difficulty) and managing to keep it down, she still had some time before it could be taken out. She’d raise hell until then. 

“Y’know maybe if you’d eaten somethin’ besides just jell-o for dinner they’d’a been more inclined to take it out.” he mumbled against her head, the both of them cuddled together in her bed. 

“Can we for a minute recall you denying a bite from that nasty MRE?” she mumbled. His shoulders shook with a silent laugh. 

Rosie could feel his thumb slowly, almost unnoticeably, stroking her stomach where his hand rested at her side. The rest of the day he’d resumed small habits he had when she was pregnant before. Patting her belly when she struggled to stand, or insisting she ate the vomit food because they ‘both’ needed it. She sighed. 

“Wanna talk about ‘em?” he asked. No longer an ‘it’, but a ‘him’ or ‘her’. He made a connection faster than she did this time around.

“What’s there to talk about? Already there.” she said. He sat up on his elbow to look down at her. 

“You don’t want it?” he asked, his furrowed brow conveying worry. His eyes, no longer covered, were so expressive. To her, at least. To everyone else, ‘like reading a blank wall’. 

“No, no I do- I’m sorry. I’m just not thrilled to be having another one so soon.” she explained, pressing her face against his chest. Daryl held her against him, rubbing her back. He understood as well as he could, but he was certain there was a level he wouldn’t comprehend being the one who wasn’t carrying another baby. 

“I can’t lose another one.” she whispered.

“You’re not. It ain’t gonna happen cause your ass ain’t goin’ within twenty feet of a horse or the bike.” he paused when he heard her giggle. “And if anything goes wrong, we have this place now. Nothin’- NOTHIN’ is gonna happen to that baby. I won’t let it.” he said, squeezing her for emphasis. 

Her eyes wandered away, observing the room. 

“It’s weird though. It’s like a piece of the world that wasn’t touched.” she said lowly. 

“That’s what I thought.” he responded. 

A few minutes passed of her hand in his, pressing palm to palm in comparison or fumbling with their fingers, even a few thumb wars that she won. 

“That limp gonna last?” she asked. He shrugged. 

“Doc says it’s fifty-fifty.” 

“Mm. You better grow your hair out.”

“Don’t like me clean cut?” 

“I like you rugged and with fleas.” He poked her good side.

She looked over his shoulder- the sun had gone down, and the lights outside were on. 

“You have to leave soon?” she asked, sadly. 

“Hell nah.” he said, scooting farther into the mattress. Rosie gave him a puzzled look. 

“I brought my own bag.” he only said. 

“Might be here a while longer.” 

“Good thing bed is comfy then.” 

“And the food?”

“Piss poor, but I think I can sneak in a couple squirrels.” 

She laughed then. 

Everyday after that she was encouraged to get up and moving. First with standing up and down, then small steps across the room, and eventually longer walks out into the hallway. Daryl was always there, his arms hovering around her and his eyes glued to her feet and expressions. It wasn’t painful, but uncomfortable. Her legs cramped when she first took steps forward which in turn sent her forward into his arms, and the rest of the day she moped. Desperately she wanted to get outside, even if it was snowing. 

There was a good moment when her NG tube was removed after proving she could eat the ‘awful’ food, and Daryl was the one to shudder when they pulled the length of it from her nose. But it was one less wire to worry about, and only left the IV in her hand to hassle with. 

Everyday her stitches were checked, and cleaned if needed, and with her stomach growing and her body returning to a normal weight, they needed to come out sooner than later instead of risking one popping. Out of everything Rosie could stand, having stitches removed was what had her holding a bucket near her head and Daryl’s hand over her eyes. She just couldn’t stand seeing, or feeling it come out of her own body.

They looked forward to visits from their friends, now able to come up to her room after she was transferred from ICU to Recovery. The lot told her about the community outside; about the businesses that remained and even the school that was filled with children, and the jobs the people took to keep the town running. She would listen in wonder, trying to imagine how beautiful it was and contain her excitement before she could see it for herself. 

News that she’d been a paramedic before spread, and one afternoon Alex found her wobbling down the hallway to tell her of a clinic they were rebuilding, and asked if she wanted a spot working in it after she recovered. It made her beam, and glow. To be able to resume something close to what she’d done before brought her immense joy. 

In quiet moments, when the lights were off and Alex would come in with an ultrasound machine, they’d say hello to their growing baby, hoping somehow they could catch an early peak and determine the sex, but the little thing was bashful, and always hiding. 

Baby names were bickered over again, and Rosie agreed that she was glad they hadn’t yet thrown out any of Lily’s belongings they’d collected. 

And finally, after weeks of building her strength and successfully making it back and forth through the hallways, she was cleared to walk outside. 

Daryl bundled her thoroughly and managed to locate new boots for her with better traction, even though she wanted her older, comfier ones. He met her halfway with a pair of her own jeans that were kinder around the waistband. With an arm looped in his, (and equally helping him balance), she took her first step into the cold outside, and down the sidewalk of the town that hadn’t been touched with the sorrow and hostility the rest of the world was filled with. Cars were parked in front of bakery that smelled of sugar and dough, and people walked up and down the snowy sidewalks, either into businesses or with families in tow. 

There was everything- a pharmacy, grocery store, even a body shop with tires being changed and engines worked on. 

And near the end, across from a small appliance store, was the school. They could hear the bells ring from inside and the chatter of different children. It was a sight to behold, and gave them both confidence and the fearlessness they needed to raise this baby. 

Rosie asked to sit and watch a while in one of the benches sat near a park that was still being worked on. Having a normality like this again- it was a strange feeling. Like coming back to a movie you loved growing up and watching again when you were an adult, and could understand the meaning behind it. No longer would she take little things like taking walks for granted, or the sound of cars rolling down a wet street. Even if things would never be the same again, at least their child would grow up knowing a piece of what everyone else had before it all went bad. 

 

 

Being home again was what she needed. The wideness of their bed and the chance to visit Lily again. 

Greatly she’d felt guilt after learning of the soon to be addition, and greatly she’d wanted to apologize to Lily, and have her know they still loved her endlessly. It was one of the first things she’d done after arriving home. But it was time to make room for the new one; there was always room to love another child. 

After ensuring she could hold her hands steadily and the coordination in her legs and feet weren’t compromised, Rosie was asked again to work with Alex at the new clinic. She’d need training, but she was always a fast learner, and it had her rambling for the longest time after the end of days when she’d come home. Daryl would only nod, unable to understand most of what she said when she talked that fast, but he liked to see the excitement in her smiles and expressions she made with her hands. One by one, the others started to find jobs of their own. 

Just like word of Rosie’s past profession was spread, so was Rick’s, and the town hadn’t yet found a sheriff. Carl returned to school, and Sasha was brought in to help teach firearms and shooting alongside Abraham. He was a former Sergeant, after all. 

Glenn and Daryl found construction his new interest when ‘pizza boy’ wasn’t yet an option, and Maggie sighed in relief when he finally told her he was only joking when he went in asking. 

Michonne was content with staying home with Judith for now, as was Maggie with Hershel, but both agreed that one day they’d like to return to working. 

Daryl fit in with the other grease monkeys down the street from the clinic at the repair shop, even bringing in his bike to finely tune when he could. They all found it easy to fit in and resume what they’d left off doing. Soon enough, the couples and families would branch off to their own homes, but Rosie and Daryl wanted to stay. They didn’t wanna move anymore, even if it was just down the road to another home. They could stand to live outside the safe zone until they cleared their area, which would be soon enough. 

The gates were still strong, and the heat held steady at night when they’d find solace in each other bodies, their form of unwinding after hectic days of work. 

Even though she could feel the fluttering kicks at this point, Daryl still struggled to. She told him it wouldn’t work even when he pressed his cheek against her stomach, but he still tried. His fingers traced her round stomach, and sometimes he’d ask if she was really only eighteen weeks along. But she insisted; after your first pregnancy, you show a lot sooner. 

He exhaled, and rested his cheek back against her inner thigh. Her other knee arched over his shoulder when he wiggled closer to her, his hand moving up to grab hers over her stomach. Lightly, she traced designs against his head, her fingers moving freely through his short hair. She watched the snow outside, laying down another layer over the land and across the trees and mountains. Her eyes started to drift shut. 

“It’s a girl.” she said softly, suddenly. 

His head first craned back to look at, then sitting up on his elbow. 

“Found out today?” he asked, his thumbs stroking her sides. She nodded. 

He leaned down to kiss her stomach, and eventually rested his upper half over hers, as if blocking anything from getting to her stomach. Rosie grinned, and closed her eyes, counting the feather light kicks inside. 

\--------------------------------

This moment has been long coming. 

I… have revised and edited this… SO MANY TIMES and midway I figured out how part 3 would go, so I’m equally glad and sad this is done. So yes, there will be a part 3.  
Thank you to anyone and everyone who has read this monster, and kudo’d or faved, or commented or reviewed! I love you all =3=  
Daryl and Rosie will be back… plus one <3 (I’m still keeping Daisie as their shipping name cause lol why not)

Discaimer: I claim no ownership to TWD or it’s characters; Rosie, Lily and other characters not mentioned in the comic/TV show are mine however, I created them.


	3. Ninos: -FORWARD-

Like many nights, throughout the years that had passed, he sat at the edge of his bed alone, staring at his bare feet against the worn carpet. The chill in the room dulled the ache in his chest from coughing, but it wouldn’t do much at aid the sharp sting upon staring at the empty space beside him in bed when he’d eventually lay down. Seven years on and there was still a throb in his heart when he’d catch sight of her old clothes or books; things he decided to keep and had slowly started to burn in fits of rage. But it was always sleeping alone where he once curled behind her that was the worst. 

Or looking at his children. 

So much of their mother was in them. The smile he wore around them masked the sadness. The smoke of a cigarette would sometimes hide the moisture in his eyes when moments got to him. He couldn’t let them see how much of a toll his old age and aching heart was having. 

“Dad.”

Daryl lifted his head at the sound of a familiar scratchy voice to see Dyani poking her head into his room, wrapped in a blanket. 

“I’m going to bed- need anything?” she asked, and he shook his head, rubbing his face. She shuffled over and sat beside him, bumping his shoulder. 

“Don’t feel good?” she asked. 

“Never do when it’s cold.” he grumbled back. She nodded- she was well aware of the effect the cold had on her father. 

“We’re going to see Alex tomorrow about your cough.” she sighed, standing to walk back to the door. 

“No.” he said, and she spun, glaring at him. 

Ahh, this was one of those moments. Dyani was a mutt- a perfect blend of Rosie and himself, but in anger, she held the critical arch in her brow like her mom. 

_“Dad.”_

“I don’t need t’go.” Daryl countered, but she crossed her arms, her narrow eyes sparking a challenge. He side-glanced at her; ugh, he already knew he was gonna lose. Beside his eyes and wide shoulders, this girl had also inherited his stubbornness. Since she could walk, she’d been as stubborn as an ox. 

“It’s just a cough-”

“Coughs go away after a few days. It’s been two weeks.” she snapped back, flipping her wild dark curls from her face. 

Daryl grumbled. “I’m not going on the bike when there’s snow-”

“Joaq can take the bike and I’ll drive the truck.” she yawned. 

“I’m okay with that.” A voice from the living room called, and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t take her side!” Daryl called, and heard quick approaching footsteps until his son was popping his curly head in by Dyani, also wrapped in blanket. A perfect double of Daryl was eyeing him, chewing on his thumb nail. 

“She can’t ride the bike for shit anyways.” Joaquin said through the corner of his mouth, but was met with an elbow in the side from his sister. 

“Don’t even start you two.” Daryl ordered, leaning back on his hands and watching his kids bicker, push, and throw insults at one another. 

“Okay I’m going to sleep.” Daryl mumbled, and Dyani pushed her brother away.

“Put socks on- I’m waking you up early.” Dyani told him, closing the door behind her. 

“You’re seventeen- stop acting like a parent!” Daryl hollered, and could hear them both still arguing with one another in the living room, shuffling about in their socks and blankets. They’d be up a few more hours. It was Daryl who had trouble staying up now. When had this old age snuck up on his so suddenly?

It was quiet again. And cold. His mind wanted him to sleep, but his body wanted company. He wanted companionship- he wanted his wife alive again. 

The ring on his finger had remained after her passing, but never held warmth to it afterwards. Besides his kids bringing light wherever they followed, everything else was dim, and cold. His memories of her didn’t glow like she- her name uttered on his lips didn’t make him feel whole. Since Rosie had died, it was only Dyani and Joaquin that had kept him going. Without them, he thought he would’ve wandered out into the snow a long time ago and let the elements take him, or a Walker bring him down. 

Daryl buried his face in his hands. 

The bed shifting behind him didn’t make him flinch, though. But there was a rapid increase in his heart when he felt warm arms coil around his neck, and dark curls fan around his face where her cheek pressed against his. His eyes closed, and his old hands found her young fingers, feeling the ring that remained when she was buried. 

The ache in his heart increased, but the excitement stirring in his gut was a welcome relief from every other dark emotion that plagued him daily. 

“Being stubborn again, gringo?” Rosie asked, her breath cold where it washed over him. He nodded, holding her arms tightly. 

“Hey Rosie.” he sighed, relishing in her body pressed against his back; the warmth he’d craved for _years_ , and grinning when she gave him a lengthy kiss on his scruffy cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final entry into "Gringo" is god damn emotional, but I had so much fun writing his relationship with his children. Will be updating the rest of the last installment soon! <3


End file.
